The Cold War Project
by kanedakunfan
Summary: This is not a story with a happy ending. There are no heroes or villians for certain – only victims. Victims, dead and living. This is the story of World War 3, and the disease that started it all. Angst and violence. T rated.
1. Chapter 1

The Cold War Project

Hey guys this is my first fanfic story... uh... hope you like it ^ ^

WARNING: T rated for language and violence. Don't like gore and angst? Don't read, you've been warned.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE FOLLOWING CHARACTERS, all belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. Because he's awesome.

Summary: _This is not a story with a happy ending. There are no heroes or villians for certain – only victims. Victims, dead and living. This is the story of World War 3, and the disease that started it all._

Enjoy...

_**PROLOGUE**_

It was on Sunday that I brought myself to visit you. We walked down the winding road, past orchards and gardens, through a worn but proudly standing farmyard to find the place.I glanced at my company and he smiled back in reassurance, yet the smile was as broken as I felt inside. His face mirrored mine – a face of new understanding, hidden behind the pain.

The pain so strong and fresh from what we had lived through.

We continued to walk through such a place of natural beauty, the perfect place for you. I wanted to see you, see where you rested now, to talk to you. If only I could see your face again... maybe change how I had treated you, be nicer to you. But time is a cold thing.

We reached a hill overlooking a field of sunflowers, the farm stretching across for what seemed like miles – and I gazed down. I gazed down at your grave stone, and cried.

It was a very sudden emotion. Your name on the marble, so cleanly carved, the soil still fresh. Flowers surrounded your bed to show how much you'd been missed by so many. _How much I miss you too._

"Why... why did you have to... You could have stayed back...Why?"

"It's okay..."A warm hand rested on my shoulder, yet I felt so cold. It was my fault. You risked you life to save me, even after everything we had been through. After all the fights, the bitter battles, the treachery... you saved me. You smiled at me as you died, laughing as if it were funny to die in such a selfless way. Your laugh was small and weak, before you stopped breathing.

And I had to run. I had to just leave you lying in the middle of the street, abandoned. That was the last time I saw you. I wanted to see your face again, to see if you found peace once you'd left the terrible world you'd fought in. I'll never know. I'd seen the others, seem them in the distance, watching. They looked happy, away from the madness that had taken their lives so harshly. At peace.

I thought about old times then, how life was so simple in its complicated way. The meetings, the preparations, the alliances; the things countries do. But when the war hit... when the disease spread, being a nation of the world became a lot different indeed.

At first we didn't understand why they were attacking. We didn't understand the truth- we only knew that there was an invasion that needed to be stopped. Whoever thought it would lead to this? You're dead. So many are dead. The portion of us alive are no luckier. The nation at my side then, he had changed so much. We all had.

This is far worse than any battle, any war, from before. The disease. It ripped the world apart with our own people as the weapons – turned into cannibals, murderers, _insane and hungry._

This is not a story with a happy ending. There are no heroes, no villains for certain- only victims.

This is the story of World War 3, and the disease that started it all.

_If you'd like to put it into words, it'd be like a ship. The government is the mast, the citizens are the wind and they are swimming on the sea of time – or so it was said. If the mast is standing straight and a good wind is blowing, the ship goes forward. Of course, there's the possibility of the ship suddenly getting stranded... But as long as there is someone who can fix the ship, you can keep using it forever, right? - _Francis Bonnefoy.

-That's just the prologue. Hope you liked it! Please comment ^^-


	2. Chapter 1 America's story Part 1

Chapter 1! Hope you like. Thought I'd throw you straight in, no funny business, so sorry if you get confused.

WARNING: Gore, gore and gore. You've been warned.

ANOTHER WARNING: This story is kind of like Pulp Fiction: it ain't all in the right order. The chapters are from different points of view at different times. This one is in March 2010. Hope you don't get too confused... :L

Enjoy~

**Chapter 1-**** America- Part 1**

"_Shhh! Did you hear that?"_

"_Someone's at the door, maybe it's-"_

"_D-Don't answer it! We need to stay here!"_

"But, dude..." I glance at my brother, then towards the bedroom door, "I need to check. Wait here, okay? I won't be long."

"Be careful..." He mumbles, gripping my arm. I roll my eyes, tugging my sleeve free, taking a better hold of my baseball bat in clammy hands.

I mean, I'm not scared. Heroes don't get scared. The people outside want to get in, I know that. But I've managed to keep my people safe in closed off areas where the Russians can't reach.

We have guns. We have bombs. This can't go wrong, right? I reach the bedroom door and listen out, my breath becoming shallower as I become more nervous.

"Be careful!"

"Matthew, shut up." I hiss, glaring at him. I wait for another noise.

Not a sound.

I open the door and sneak down the hallway, my hands only slightly unsteady. My eyes dart around, paranoid that someone will jump out. Its unbearably quiet. I hate it. A part of me is wondering why I'm worried; I mean, my house is safe enough, so why would anyone apart from Canada be here? As I move through the kitchen, I let out a long and steady sigh under my breath, calming myself down. I walk past the living room, into the hallway – and stop.

The front door is wide open.

...and on the handle is _blood._

My heart lurches as I realise my mistake, fear ripping through me.

Too late- I hear a scream. I'm already running back. Dropping my bat I race back to the bedroom, yelling, "CANADA!"

H-He screamed- I left him unarmed- I need to-

I find that I stop dead at the open doorway to the room. I stare ahead at the figure with his back to me. I never thought I'd see... his coat is drenched with blood at the edges, knees down caked with snow and mud mixed with the sickeningly red liquid, slowly forming around him on the floor.

I stop breathing out of paralysing horror. My legs are weak, I don't want to scream but...

In his arms is a limp body, ripped apart by the neck mercilessly. _No. No no no- it's... it can't be, it's someone else-_

My lungs beg for air and I gasp very suddenly. The man turns around, with horrible ease as I stumble back against the opposite wall in the corridor, half collapsing to the floor – staring as two pairs of purple eyes stare back. The second pair seem to see right through me, glazed over and cold from the corpse in his hand.

"M-Matt...?" I murmur numbly, my voice barely above a whisper, grief sinking in my stomach. Then the anger hits me. I manage to stand up and glower at the murderer holding my brother. I grit my teeth to hold back tears,.

The nation only stares at me passively, eyes wild and irrational, piercing through to me core. Then he grins widely.

When he laughs I halt from moving forward, shuddering at the pure giddiness of his laughter as he drops Canada onto the floor in the pool of blood. He holds up his blood stained hands, glistening in the light.

"Russia, what have you done." I shake my head, my fury wavering enough to let in enough grief to shed tears, torn between pain and hatred. He doesn't acknowledge me, only smiles.

Russia has killed Canada, and I realise now that I'm next when his cold eyes set on me more threateningly. I'm unarmed.

Before I can move he darts forward – eyes wide and mouth wider in a blood-thirsty grin. I stand my ground. I'm determined to avenge his death. Yet my body screams for me to run. _RUN!_

He slams into me. I hit the wall hard- knocking the breath out of me. He brings the blooded knife to my neck, laughing uncontrollably, his breath and skin smelling of raw meat. Another tear rolls down my cheek as I start to sob, in fear, horror – I don't have time to register my own emotions as his face falls close to mine. Terrified I turn my head away, trying to get away from the stronger nation but unable to move from the wall as I'm pinned.

All of a sudden, his smile falls.

"Kill me."

I freeze. I look back at him. He stares back, but his eyes are softer and seem to recognise me now. Unable to speak, I only shake my head.

"KILL ME."

"Wh-what...?" My eyes widen as the knife lowers. He tries to force it into my hand with rising panic, his hands trembling. I don't understand-

"Please- kill me, I'm begging you...!" _Why? Why are you-_

"Wh-why did you kill Canada! You killed him!"

"Stop me before-"

"You killed him-you-"

"AMERICA!"

His eyes change. They become manic again, and he breaks into a hungry snarl. In pure panic, very quickly, very sharply, I bring the knife across his neck with a cry of anger. After a horrible moment of silence, he falls against me and sideways onto the floor. Blood, warm and thick, clutches to my face and front. I stare, unfocused, straight ahead. Then I too fall down the wall. I drop the knife, and stare at my hands. The blood the Matthew and Ivan, then at their bodies in front of me.

Only now do I scream.

No-one will hear me. That's not the point. I scream at Russia, at Canada, at myself. At what I've done.

I've just killed a nation. I worked with him. I fought with him.

_...why?_

_To himself everyone is immortal; he may know that he is going to die, but he can never know that he is dead_ -Samuel Butler


	3. Chapter 2  Italy, Part 1

Chapter 2

Italy, Part 1

Time for chapter 2! Thank you for all the visitors and hits, hope everyone is enjoying the story so far ^ ^

Please review!

Suggested Gerita in this chapter, but nothing above Hidekaz-kun style fan service ;)

That goes for all the suggested pairings in here, unless I get enough persuasion to make canon in the story :L

This chapter is set December 2010, so 3 months previous to America's first part of the story.

Enjoy...

"Germany..."

"Hm?" He gazes at me, somehow already reassuring just by looking calm.

I open my mouth to say it, but the words catch in my throat and refuse to budge – like a bit of pasta that I forgot to chew. He reads my worried expression and places a warm hand on my shoulder. I move forward and bury my face in his uniform, tears already streaming down my face as I cry, "Don't go! Please Germany, you don't need to-!"

"Who else is going to?" Germany sounds stern but his warm hug in contradicts it, making him comforting nonetheless.

The cold air around us makes me shiver and I open my eyes properly to meet his clear blue ones, trying not to cry so much, "But there are so many! They're really scary, don't go..."

"I need to. I don't want them reaching past eastern Europe. Hungary is already in danger and I don't want you to be."

I consider it. Then I nod, "Okay..."

"Take care of yourself whilst I'm gone. If you need anything, Spain is happy to help. I personally wouldn't trust France, even if he's closer. Understood?"

I nod again, more firmly now, "O-okay! Yes sir!"

His smile is weak for some reason, "Good..."

He salutes to me and I salute back, before he turns and leaves to join his troops. He'll be gone for the Eastern Front in Poland. I don't know when he'll be back.

I watch him leave, and feel like crying again. The Russians are so scary. But Germany is tough and strong, and he'll fight them back. I know he will. I don't know why they're invading, but Germany says that Russia has finally cracked, or something. I wonder if that's true... he's scary but I don't think he's crazy. He wouldn't tell me what happened at the last meeting. Something bad – they were given news of something and everyone was angry and shocked.

I wasn't told. Germany said that it would only make me worry. Lovino doesn't want to tell me either. Maybe it isn't important then. I turn around and look at my brother. For a moment I catch him looking upset as he looks on, before he notices me watching. He scowls at me.

"What."

"Are you okay, Lovi?" I try to hug him but he shoves me back, angry.

"Why wouldn't I be? That potato-bastard is going to protect us. He'll stop those vodka drinking crazies and'll be back soon, don't cry again or I'll-"

"Ve... don't worry Romano! We still have Spain!" I insist on giving him a brotherly hug, aware that he's holding back tears of his own.

He huffs at me, but becomes more upset. I try not to share the feeling, but we both end up crying anyway.

I'm scared. Without Germany, the other countries might try to get us like they always do. We're helpless without him! Why does he have to go...

"Let's go to Spain's house!" I try to drag him but he growls at me, sad moment passed.

"I'm not going to HIS house! I hate him!"

"But it's far away from Russia, Romano! We'll be safe there!"

He gives me an undecided look. I beg him more and he gives in, dragging _me _away from the busy street, further down the path. The ice is slippery and hard to walk on, which makes me protest as he tugs me by the sleeve roughly.

"The quicker we get there, the better."

"Lovi...!" I whine, trying to catch up as I hurry clumsily behind him, pulling for him to stop.

He halts and turns to me impatiently, "What is it."

"...what's going on? Why is Russia at war with us?"

Romano doesn't say anything at first. He gives me a hard glare, "You don't need to know."

"But-"

"-DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT!"

I flinch as he storms ahead. Trailing off I follow sullenly. We head further through the outskirts of Paris before reaching the city centre. I try to figure out why he won't tell me. Is it too horrible to mention? Is it that bad?

To myself, I start to mull over it, "I wonder why Russia hasn't said anything recently... isn't he good friends with the Baltic States? I haven't heard from them either, and his two sisters haven't visited any of us too..."

Everything I'm saying is making my brother more and more tense. So I poke him.

"What's wrong? Don't you like the Eastern nations?"

"Just shut up. Shut up now."

"But why-?"

"I SAID SHUT UP! You don't know what's going on so stop talking about them like that!"

"R-Romano, don't be angry..."

We're interrupted by a tall, dark-haired nation, "Italy, Romano, what are you doing here?"

I gaze at Austria tearfully, before hugging him, "I don't understand why is he attacking why is everyone so angry at Russia?"

"I-It's complicated, Feliciano." He comforts me with a little awkward pat on the back, "Both of you, you should go to Spain and stay with him for a while. Understood?"

We both nod hesitantly. Before I can insist that he answers my question, he heads off with his own troops the same direction Germany went. I watch him go, both scared and confused. I still don't know why this is all happening.

"Let's go." Romano mutters, taking my hand.

"Ci..."

_I miss Germany already..._

By the time we start to feel to cold to walk for much longer, we haven't left Paris. Lovino insists that we avoid France's house but I want to stay in a familiar place overnight. So we walk past it and I tug for him to stop. It's dark, and the snow falls seemingly from out of nowhere in the starless, threatening night sky. It makes me feel very small, and very vulnerable. France's house is the safest place to be and I want to run indoors where it's warm and light.

"Romano, let's stay with France tonight. It's scary out here..."

He snaps in annoyance, "France is scarier than the dark. The Russians are far away from here, so there won't be anyone here to hurt us. Let's just get to tomato-bastard's, okay?"

I whine in alarm when I start to get pulled along.

"B-But it's dark-!" I glance around at the obscured street, lit up only by street lights.

"Don't be such a baby..." He sounds nervous too. That makes me panic more, and I glance desperately towards the house for any signs of Francis anywhere. I spot him walking in from his garden and gasp.

"FRA-ANCE!"

The older nation catches sight of me and frowns, calling back, "Italy? What are you _doing _here? _Sacre bleu_ – get inside, both of you! _Vite vite!_"

I break free of my angered brother and hurry towards the front door. He opens it and steps aside to let me in. Romano has caught up by this time and throws the Frenchman a hateful glare, before kicking me in the shin for not obeying him.

"I hate you." He hisses, as we walk into the warm hallway of France's home. He doesn't look at me when I give him a smile of reassurance.

"Don't worry! Big brother France will take care of us! We can go to big brother Spain's house another time!"

We're led to a grand room with two single beds, and France leaves us to sort ourselves out, after a quick goodnight.

"_Gracie France!" _I whisper, hugging him before he disappears downstairs. When I turn around, Romano is already in bed, looking uncomfortable and grumpy.

I don't bother him and climb into my own temporary bed. It's cosy.

But when I try to sleep, I get scared again. _What's going on? Why won't anyone tell me? _My thoughts drift again to Germany, and where he might be now. Is he asleep yet? I hope he's thinking of me too...

I toss and turn restlessly for what feels like hours. Giving upon sleep, I slink downstairs. I find France downstairs on the couch, with a bottle of wine in hand, slumped over like a limp puppet hanging his head. Nervously I call, "Big brother...?"

He looks up calmly. I'm relieved to see he looks sober, but worry for his fearful expression, "Bonjour... Feliciano..."

"Is something wrong?" I join him and frown, peering at the bottle to see what wine it is curiously.

France sighs and sets it down on the coffee table. After a pause, he murmurs, "The Russians... they're strong, you know. They've already taken Eastern Europe. It's only a matter of time before they each us."

"-but Germany's gone to chase them away, right? He'll fight them away, I know he will...!"

He shakes his head, bitter and doubtful, "We can only hope so..."

I hesitate, gaze at him, and ask, "... why is he invading, Francis?"

He blinks at me, looking a little numb-headed, "I don't know, Italy. All I know is that this is going to be worse than the last few wars... This wasn't planned. Russia didn't declare this..."

"Is that it?" Confused, I tilt my head. Why would everyone keep a thing like that from me?

My heart thuds heavily when I catch France's mournful expression.

"Wh-what else? Did he do something bad?"

He chuckles weakly, exposing that he's drunk quite a bit, "Oui, oui... he did."

"What did Russia do?"

"We don't know where he is. He disappeared before the last meeting. All we know is that... he..."

He looks very frightened now, yet also angry as he puts a hand to his mouth, staring at the floor.

Then he says,

"... Russia murdered Belarus, and disappeared."

_The enemy is fear. We think it is hate; but, it is fear - _**Gandhi**


	4. Chapter 3, England's story, Part 1

Chapter 3 – England's story, Part 1

Time for England's first part of the story! Set roughly the same time of America's first part of the story, so March. Confusing right? Sorry *Gets shot* Hope you can follow it. Like I said, Pulp Fiction. Thank you for the watches... by three people... but hey, the views'll go up from here, right?

… right? *FOREVER ALONE*

Thank you _somethingawkward _and _TokyoTwinkle _for your reviews, and to those who alerted and favourited! Glad you like it!

*ahem* Anyway, hope you enjoy. No-one is mentioned as dead or killed in this chapter (yeay?) so it's not as depressing. I promise not to kill off TOO many nations... maybe ;)

So yeah, enjoy~

Oh, and thank you dear Americans for being the people most viewing this *grin* I send my love from a dreary town in North England! (there's no snow here, just rain) Hope everyone had a good Christmas and have a happy new year, guys!

"_WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE HE IS?"_

The man on the other end of the phone pauses, then only repeats himself with more agitation, "M-Mr Kirkland... all we know is that some of our S.W.A.T team came to retrieve Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams from New York City, to find them both missing."

"Is that all? Not a trace? A letter? _Anything?_" I demand, gripping the receiver tighter. France is standing a little way down the corridor and stares at me, his face pale with worry.

"Well..."

"Well what? Did you find something?"

"We... found someone, yes."

"...someone?" I echo, not liking the dark undertone in the Police Officer's voice. A heavy weight settles in my stomach, making me feel sick.

There is a long, long silence that lengthens out horribly until-

"Hello, this is Mr Anderson speaking."

"I don't care who the bloody hell you are! Who did you find in America's house?"

"The door was wide open, sir... we found the house perfectly untouched apart from a clear trail of blood from the master bedroom to the front door. An unused baseball bat with the initials _A.F.J _was found nearby-"

"Alfred F. Jones – but that's besides the point! Who was it?"

he seems to be ignoring me as he continues his description, "The bedroom door was locked – we had to knock it down. The room was heavily covered in blood-"

I start to feel queasy, "Who's... blood...?"

France's eyes widen as he stares, looking even more concerned than before.

"We don't know yet, sir. But... we found Ivan Braginsky – Russia. He was killed by a slit throat."

_...what?_

"I'm sorry for your loss."

_Russia is dead?_

"Arthur, what did he say?"

_If he's dead, then-_

"But our forensics team predicted that there was a struggle against the wall before his before his death. Judging by the amount of blood in a separate area, there is a possible second victim. It appears to have been some sort of fight – an attack maybe. Do you know anything that could lead us to finding Mr Jone's location?"

"N-no..." My voice is barely above a whisper. I'm numb with shock, "I don't..."

"If you can tell us anything, please contact the New York City Police Department. "

"I- I want a report on the DNA as soon as possible." I add, able to find my voice.

"Yes sir. We'll give you an update as soon as we get one."

"Good. Well... thank you for telling me. Goodbye."

I hand up. Stare at France. He stares back.

"Angleterre? What did they say?"

"He's dead."

"Wh-who's dead? _ARTHUR!_" I'm stopped from walking away, "Please, dear God tell me it isn't America or Canada... who-"

"Russia... it's Russia... he's-" I'm trembling. I try to clench my fists to stop them from shaking. I try to take deep breaths to regulate my shallow breathing, but I feel sick – terribly nauseous from the news.

The older nation holds a steady eye contact. Then, in a voice thick with shock, he murmurs, "Oh... I see..."

I shake my head weakly, gazing at the floor. The awareness of it is starting to sink in and my mind is swimming with unanswered questions.

"My God – what if Canada or America did it? What if Russia-"

"We can't be sure yet. I'm sure another Russian was involved, _d'accord_? Maybe they both escaped, and they'll phone soon. We'll get news, right?... England?"

"There was a struggle... o-of some kind... before Russia was killed... He must have been after them..." _But why._

Russia killed Belarus before the last meeting; we were told by Ukraine. She burst into the hall in tears, screaming the news in such a pain-stricken fashion that it made my heart stop. We haven't seen Russia since the news. We suspected he escaped and hid. But if he ended up in New York City... _he must have aimed for the two nations. _The Russians are invading still, without order from their nation, claiming they're 'protecting the motherland'. It's irrational. They aren't defending, they're _attacking._ They have been since December. It's March now, and the war is only expanding in size. We've lost all contact with the Eastern Nations, even Ukraine. We don't even know the portion still alive. _2 Nations... dead... and America, Canada? Are they even alive?_

The new concept of being able to die... it's making my head reel.

France becomes strained, "I don't know, but we have to fight with the others. It isn't just the Russians attacking – some Belarussian and Ukrainian men have also been reported in the invasion. It's possible that each nation falling under havoc has it's people gradually joining the war against us. We need to join Germany and the others, both it's too late- We can't stay on the sidelines like this-! "

I walk into my study and gaze out the widely stretched window on the far side of the tall room, out to London. To my people. I think of the havoc spreading and how it may very well reach here without enough defence.

_It doesn't make sense... why is this all happening so suddenly?_

...is there something we don't know that they do?

"England."

I turn around to gaze at France. A nation who has never, in the many years that I've known him, been so determined to join such a big war. He looks with a burning desire to fight alongside me, bright in his hard blue eyes.

"We're declaring war on all the countries that are attacking."

I gaze once more at the darkening city.

After a moment's thought, I turn back.

"Very well, we will join the war."

"_Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy."_


	5. Chapter 4, America part 2, Russia part 1

**America, part 2 – Russia, part 1**

Hey guys! Chapter 4 has two parts, lucky you! :D

I'm trying to get as many chapters out as possible before the new year, so here's America's 2nd part and Russia's 1st.

_America, part 2 – set March 2010._

_Russia, part 1 – set November 2009._

I've just realised, when I said Italy's part was set December 2010, I meant December 2009. Sorry :L

I've had quite a few visitors! Greetings to those in America, Britain, Canada, Indonesia, the Philippines, Australia, Finland, France, Poland, Germany... wow. I'm really surprised- thank you!

Anyway enough of me talking, here's America's story, Part 2... enjoy...

_I don't know how long I've been running for. _

The weight of the body in my arms becomes too much and I lose my footing. Very suddenly, I slip and fall onto the harsh gravel of the street. Instead of acknowledging the cuts along my arms and face, and getting up... for the first time, I listen. And look.

Only now do I wonder where I am. They shy is darkening, yet the street is painfully bright with the light of the fire blazing all around. Cars roar past, some just swerving away from me as I lay across, staring blankly at the disaster around me. Canada is underneath me and I gasp, lifting him gently from the ground to check for any damage. His neck is badly torn but I wrapped it in bandages, to stop the bleeding, and his milky white face is illuminated up by the car lights going past.

"I'm sorry – I didn't mean to drop you..." I brush away the wisps of curly blonde hair away from his glazed over, purple eyes. They seem to be staring at me and it makes me unable to look away for a sickening moment.

I brush them shut with gentle fingertips, "I'm really sorry..."

A fresh wave of pain crashes over me and I lean down to bury my face in his front, to cry. No-one stops at us to help. No-one stops to look. No-one cares. Only I am mourning for the death of my brother, Canada, a _nation._ For the first time in my life I feel small, unnoticed... _unimportant. _Like Matthew must have felt so many times. I neglected him. I pushed him around for my own greed when I should have been there for him as a sibling. I should have treated him better and now it's too late.

"_I wish I could take it back... you can't be dead... I don't want you to be dead!_ Matthew... wake up – come on... we still need to help our people! You can't be dead! PLEASE!_"_

I shake him. He's cold. His limp body gives away no sign of life. He's so cold... _too cold..._

I pull one hand away from his neck to stare at blood. I don't even know if it's Matthew's or Ivan's any more. _It's my fault they're both dead. _I'm a murderer. I should be dead, not Canada. He never did anything wrong. The last thing I said to him was harsh and dismissive. The last he saw of me was a careless, indifferent brother. Before he _died._ I left him to die and only realised my mistake too late.

...and then I killed Russia with my own hands. _Why had he told me to kill him? _Why... after he killed Canada... he...

My hands are trembling and I try to warm them at my sides, smearing more blood over on my bomber jacket. I feel sick; my head is spinning, I'm shaking, all this guilt, confusion- _rage._ I don't know how to feel. All I know is that I have to keep running. I don't even know where I'm going – just so long as it's _away from here._ I glance down at my brother, pick him up unsteadily, and stand to stare at the cars still roaring past with blaring head lights, our silhouettes standing out from the damage street, faces white and blood glistening red. _I can't stop here. _I need to get away – from Russia, the mob, the fire.

I can't go to my government for help, or any of my people. They would turn me away, if they knew what I did. I can't go to any country for the same reason.

_So I'll keep running._

"_Hate is a disease. It is fear's messenger and it makes us do terrible things in a shadow of our better selves, of what we could be."_

_Russia, Part 1_

How strange.

I don't remember there being a reason for a riot today...

I frown vaguely at the people running toward and away from me on the street, some slipping on the ice and falling into the snow piled on all sides of the winter road. When I notice the amount of blood on some, I start to wonder. _What's going on? _Everyone seems really scared.

One man stops long enough to tell me to run, eyes wide with horror.

"But why?" I answer simply, but too late; he's already sprinting away as another man chases after him – screaming. I block him.

"Don't chase people, it's naughty." I scold coldly, meeting unfocused, crazed brown eyes, "You understand, da? If you keep chasing people, I'll have to hurt you."

I grip his shoulder with a small, indifferent smile, before letting him run along. But as I carry on walking towards my house, I start to sense something strange about the man.

He isn't going anywhere. He's stood still, watching me. I turn and frown at him.

"You can go now, da?"

He doesn't reply, only stares. I get annoyed.

"Don't stare! Go away or I'll hurt you!"

The man grins all of a sudden. But he doesn't look at all happy. He looks terrified. So why is he heading towards me-?

He lunges for my left arm and I grab his neck immediately. Holding him above the ground by a few fair inches, I repeat, "I _said, _go away or I'll hurt you."

The crazed man laughs painfully, but he isn't amused. He looks kind of upset. I don't think he's sane.

"Are you going to be good now?"

He stops laughing. I take that as a yes and drop him.

"There. Stop being naughty and go home, da?"

I make my way to my house again, tugging my winter coat tighter around me. Then, without warning, the same man sneaks up behind me and tries to attack me again. I swing my arm around to hit him – but he dodges and takes hold of it; through the sleeve he sinks his teeth into my wrist. I yelp in alarm. Angrily, I punch him hard under the jaw – he flies sideways, losing his grip and crashing into the lamp post to my left. His skull makes a terribly familiar crack against the frozen metal. He slides into the snow limply, leaving a bright trail of blood down the lamp post. The white snow turns red.

He's dead. Maybe I should have killed him sooner. Now I have a heavily bleeding wrist. I stare at the blood seeping through the fabric. It hurts a lot but I can sort it out when I get home. I sigh and carry on until I reach my house. I ignore the increasingly disastrous riot and get inside, holding my bleeding arm upright to avoid losing so much blood. I take off my coat gingerly, roll up my jumper sleeve, and walk into the kitchen to look for a roll of bandages.

I wonder why that strange man bit me like that. He bit me very hard. He looked really scared before he got himself killed.

I find a roll in the top cupboard and wrap it repeatedly around my wrist and hand, wincing at the sharp pain in my hand. Why does it hurt so much? It smells horrible too; I can still smell the lingering scent of fear on me from the man, and all the blood already over him can't be good mixing with my wound. All I'm getting is bad, bad memories from my past. The fear and blood of of others is all too familiar. I don't really like familiar things. Ill at ease, I go upstairs and wash the wound.

Then the phone rings.

"Da?"

"Russia, come to a meeting at the hall as soon as you can, it's urgent."

"But... why?"

"Just do it."

"Is it about the ri-?"

My boss hangs up.

...weird. What is so important?

Becoming increasingly troubled, I re-apply some extra bandages, put on all my outdoor clothes again, and go straight back out into the snow. The riots gotten worse, but I can't be distracted by it if my boss is expecting me. It takes a while to get to the hall with all the people getting in my way. Because of bad habits, the mood of the street starts to get the better of me, and I pull out the nearest pipe from an alleyway wall; using it to hit a few people across the face for entertainment as I make my way to the meeting. I laugh when one man breaks his arm trying to attack me. This is fun.

Another man runs past in panic, and I recognise him.

"Ah – Lithy! What are you doing here! Are you in the riot too?" I call. He skids to a stop, and hurries back towards me.

"R-Russia! We need to go! This way-" He tries to pull me along, then notices blood on his hands from taking hold of my hand. He stares at the bandage, showing concern.

"Oh... this? It's nothing..." I mumble, a little shy, hiding my wrist in the coat sleeve, "I'm just on my way to a meeting with my boss, so I can't go anywhere at the moment. Maybe later, da?"

"Are you okay?"

"Hm? Me? Of course I am, silly. You look a little nervous, Lithuania."

He looks scared. Not crazy-man-who-bit-me scared, but still very frightened.

"C-Can't you see what's going on around you?"

I pause and gaze around. People attacking each other in the street, others lying on the floor, dead or dying... "It's just a riot."

"People are_ fleeing_, Russia! Something very bad is happening! You need to do something-!"

"I will at the _meeting_, da? I'll head straight there." I turn to leave.

"But..." The shorter nation stares at me in alarm, but seems to think better of protesting and nods hesitantly. Then he carries on running. I watch him go.

Is he up to something? Wait... why would little Lithy be up to something bad? I'm being silly. I walk the rest of the way to the conference room. I enter the hall, met by a fair amount of commotion. They fall silent when I walk to my seat.

"What's the meeting about?" I start, smiling calmly.

"We need to discuss battle plans" My boss leans over the large table, slightly agitated.

"Battle plans?" _With who?_

"We all know that the Americans are planning an air-raid, and that the British are allying with the Lithuanians to invade. We must take immediate action!"

"-we must stop them!"

"Think of our people!"

More politicians start jumping in with different points, all manic and becoming increasingly loud again. I sit in utter bewilderment as they yell across the table and me and themselves.

I think they've all got worked up over the riot.

"Now now, everyone should calm down, da?"

"Russia, please understand, some of the men before you are not sane-"

"What did you say?" My boss challenges. Everyone turns to a slightly weedy looking politician sat near the end of the table. He meets my eye with only slightly wavering confidence as all eyes fall on him.

"Not sane?" I echo. The silence is threatening. The politician nods. There were a few insane people on the way here, but why would my government be?

I gaze at my boss curiously. The same wild eyes and pale skin. But- maybe he's just- tired...

"Russia, don't listen to them- they caught it-"

"C-Caught what?" I frown, a little suspicious.

"He's delirious- no- he's on the enemies' side! "

"He'll tell them our plans!" My boss hollers, pointing accusingly, "KILL HIM!"

The nearest men to the politician in blame grab him, dragging him out of his seat. He tries in vain to break free, calling desperately to me-

"RUSSIA! IT GOT OUT! THE COLD WAR PR-"

He's silenced with a hard fist across the face and stomach by two men. I stare in silence as they begin to beat him on the floor, rising from my seat in alarm.

My boss looks at me with an unsettling smile, "Let's get back to our _plans_, shall we? "

I manage a nod.

He casually ignores the yelling and screaming from the other side of the room, whilst I can't help but constantly glance to them, nervous. "...as we said, the Americans especially have been plotting against us. It won't be long before they take action. We need to get them before they get us."

The other politicians still at the table murmur agreement, albeit some hesitantly.

"But... how do you know?" I ask, uncertain, "Why would America do that after the agreement at the end of-"

"ISN'T IT OBVIOUS? They'll try to take our _land. _Our women and children. They've already got other nations on their side- with just us to fight against them!"

"What? But...that's..." _Impossible._

"Russia." He looks sinister, "Are you on their side too? Is that it?"

"N-no, not at all- I just don't... think America would do that..." _Would he?_

"_THINK_ about this. Who do we despise most?_"_

_...America?_

"Who hates us?"

_America, I suppose._

"Who thinks they are the strongest?"

_America does._

"-and who needs to be killed before they can kill us?"

_America- wait- no- I can't do that-!_

"_WHO needs to be KILLED, Russia?" _My boss leans towards me, mouth wide in a strained grin. But he doesn't look happy...

He...

...looks...

_... terrified._

I don't answer, but every other man at the table says, "America."

"Exactly." My boss sits back. I stare at him, a horrible feeling of realisation resting like a stone in the pit of my stomach. I feel ill. I need some air.

"I-I'll... be right back..." I stand up and walk unsteadily to the door, into the cooler air of the hallway. Stumbling into the waiting room, I collapse into the nearest seat. I pull up my coat sleeve and gaze at the wound on my wrist, out of breath as I try to flex my hand. It's gone completely numb. It's pretty warm in here, but my whole arm feels cold. Have I lost a lot of blood? I don't think-

"Ivan, there you are."

I lift my head weakly to see Belarus walking up to me, and I barely acknowledge her before standing up, "D-don't...!"

She doesn't notice my panic, "I saw the riots and thought I'd make saw you are okay. Are you al right?"

"...no... I'm... I'm a little dizzy- not much-"

Her eyes fall upon the blooded bandage on my wrist, and become the slightest bit impassive as she exposes worry. I flinch when she goes to touch it.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" I burst out, backing away, panicking when she approaches despite my shouting, "DON'T COME NEAR ME- GO AWAY!"

My vision darkens suddenly. A wave of nausea makes me lean against the wall for support, breathing hitched and shallow.

She's still trying to come closer. Why is she trying to come closer. Why won't she leave me alone. I wan;t her to leave me-

"Big brother, what's wrong?"

I smile widely, feeling a little better now that I've breathed a lot, "I feel perfectly fine, da? You should join us- we're planning to attack America because he's going to invade soon."

I attempts once more to take a step closer. I glower venomously, "Stay away, Natalya."

"You're acting- strange. Are you sick?"

"Why do you ask? Don't you trust me? Is that it?" I challenge.

"N-No, I-"

I walk towards her, "Are you against me too? They say everyone is. You are too, aren't you. You're here to kill me-"

"Russia, you're scaring me-"

I grab her by the wrists, _"ARE YOU?"_

Belarus falls silent. I stare at her, feeling myself get defensive. _Something is happening. I can feel it. What am I doing?_

"My own sister. What an ingenious plan, America. You thought you could trick Russia?" I tighten my hold on my sister's arms, cutting of the blood circulation in her hands.

"Stop it- Ivan- you're hurting me-"

I stop. I'm hurting her. My own little sister-

I step away like I've been burnt, eyes wide, "Natalya. What's wrong with me."

"...Maybe you're... tired. You should rest..."

"DON'T _TOUCH_ ME!" I hit her around the face when she goes for my arm again. She insistently grabs it, seeming more fearful for my safety than hers, despite the panicked abuse.

"Y-you need to calm down, big brother. I'll take you home!"

"No! Go away! NO!"

Sheer panic. I take hold of her shoulder. I throw her sideways.

… I hadn't meant to throw her so hard.

She crashes through the window, falling down and out of sight, a wind bursting through to blind me for a moment. I stop. I walk up and look down through the broken glass.

"...Belarus...?"

On the road, in a pool of blood amongst the riot and the falling snow, she lies. I burst through the doors, sprint down the stairs, and run out into the the street to reach her. She's reaching out a hand towards me. I fall into the snow, white turning to red around us. I pull her into my arms and she coughs up a mouthful of blood.

I stare into her eyes, round with fear. Fear of me.

"I...v...a...n... _why..._" She strains, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

"N-no-! I-I didn't-" I shake her, distraught as her line of sight falls up to the sky.

She doesn't reply.

"Natalya?" I shake her more violently, "NATALYA!"

"You monster."

My face snaps up to the man standing a few metres away, staring at me.

Lithuania, and Ukraine beside him.

"You... you monster- how could you-?" He cries, shaken, stumbling a few steps away from me. My older sister can't speak. She can only stare at her younger sibling's body in my arms.

My mind seems to make up it's own mind on what should happen now.

The only thought coming through to me is... _they saw what I did. They'll tell everyone and they'll come after me._

I stand up steadily, dropping my little sister in the red snow, "Don't try to run away..."

They run. I chase them, and quickly catch up to Lithuania and grab his wrist.

"Where are you going? Don't you want to stay?"

Ukraine stops and turns to scream at me, once she's seen I've caught him, "IVAN! STOP THIS- DON'T HURT ANYONE ELSE-"

"Shut up."I growl. Her whole body stiffens under me threatening stare. Then I grin at the brown-haired nation gleefully. He looks absolutely terrified. I wonder if I do. But I'm not scared, exactly, but rather... _hungry._

"R-R-Russia..." He tries to speak feebly, but his voice is too small, "Why are you doing this..."

"I'm _protecting_ myself."

"No. Y-you're hurting your friends. You killed Belarus- _you killed her!_"

"She was trying to kill me, and so are you two."

Ukraine tries to pull me away from Lithuania, _"STOP THIS! PLEASE!"_

I swing my hand around and hit her hard across her face. She falls into the snow. He takes the opportunity to flee, and I pursue him.

"_LITHY! WE NEVER MET UP TO TALK! DON'T YOU WANT TO DO THAT NOW?"_

"ST-STAY AWAY FROM ME!" He cries, running into an alleyway with a swift but staggered skid around the corner.

"DON'T RUN AWAY."

No answer.

I stop in the middle of the shadowed path and stalk forward.

"You can't hide."

He must be found. Otherwise he'll- _what am I doing? Why am I in an alleyway, hunting down my friends? _Because they're hunting me. _I've just killed my little sister... what have I done? _I did the right thing- what's wrong with me- I've got to get away- before- before I-

With a lot of force I turn around and run into the open road. I've got to get away before I hurt anyone else!

Leaving for a blind escape, to any road away from here, on the brink of losing myself in the thick paranoia seeping into my mind- I can only wonder what will happen when I can no longer control myself. Something very dark is taking over. And I can't stop it.

_I'm sorry... Belarus... Lithuania...Ukraine..._

I'm so sorry.

"_Collective fear stimulates herd instinct, and tends to produce ferocity toward those who are not regarded as members of the herd."_


	6. Chapter 5, America, Part 3

_Chapter 5... America Part 3...April 2010_

**Hey! I know everyone's parts are meant to be equal, but America's parts are closer together for a reason. (There are certain arcs, and this whole arc is the America-Russia arc, generally.)**

**Thank you for the views! New Year's Eve today ^ o ^ **

**What's all your New Year revolutions? **

**Ciao to those in the U.S and the U.K! You guys've given me the most views so bless y'all. It means a lot .**

**Anyway, enough of me speaking again, here's America's Part 3... enjoy...**

_Silence._

The first I've heard in days.

Beyond the exposed areas of mobs, and the terrified packs of citizens trying to escape, I find myself facing silence.

It's... deafening.

In front of me is a chapel, untouched. I can't be sure. From the outside it almost looks too perfectly well-kept. Uncertainty makes me glance back and forth, trying to gaze passed gravestones and trees for any sign of a mob nearby. But there are none. The weight on my back becomes just that little bit heavier. I move forward, hoping to rest somewhere warm. I don't know how I've survived for so long – living off the deserted towns and villages, avoiding main cities where the havoc is at it's peak. My former motivation to help people is barely existing now, beyond protecting the body on my back from any attackers. Each place brings some kind of horror to witness.

Survivors killing each other. Parts of the mob beating already long dead people like they're possibly still able to hurt them, ripping them apart.

-and the constant fleeing from blood-thirsty citizens. My citizens. Turning against me like I'm the enemy. I haven't been able to speak to a single sane person for a while now.

Canada never talks back, though I like to believe he can at least hear me. It keeps me going. I try to tell myself that I'm still helping someone, if only one person.

So all I'm looking for is somewhere to rest. As the sun sets over the woodland trees surrounding the place of worship, I gingerly approach the door.

No sign of anyone around. Maybe there are people inside that can help us. That's what we need.

Help.

I stopped screaming and crying for it when I realised there was no-one left to call to. Whether that be the insane or the innocent.

I'm still hesitating. My hands are shaking- I'm nervous- scared. I don't know why. Everything that has happened … it's gotten to my head. I feel completely alone in a world of chaos. _My government? My friends? _They probably know what I've done by now. They'll turn me away.

So I really am alone.

My dull trail of thought is interrupted. The silence is ripped apart by a sudden. Heart-stopping.

_-Bang._

From inside.

With sudden desperateness I burst inside the chapel, staring wildly around in the faint light of the stain-glass windows, looking for a sign. Someone to help? The silence is crawling back in to surround me, as if to aggravate me. To taunt me. Did I imagine that gunshot? Am I losing it too?

The answer lies ahead of me in the isle. Blood. The sight of it throws me back- oh so sickeningly familiar from back home. I stare at it in a twist of horror and confusion. Where is it coming from? _The gunshot..._ My line of sight follows the trail, soon falling upon the source.

Sitting upright, facing the front, is a man. With feet I can't feel I step around the side to peer at him. A reverend. With a hole blown through his head.

The sight of it makes me gasp, shocked- _who would do this to a man of worship? _

But he did it to himself. The gun is in his hand. I freeze when I realise he is still alive as his lidded eyes vaguely look around. Perhaps he missed the spot he had meant to aim for and ended up giving himself a few seconds of sheer pain. I can feel myself meeting his eye as he acknowledges me. His jaw falls open to try and create words, but he can barely speak, _"G...o...d..?"_

"F-Father- I'm America- why did you..."

He reaches for me. I hold his hand.

"_America..."_

"Y-yes-! America! I'm America! Please... why did you-"

"_Thank... you..."_

I let a small, trembling breath out as his eyes grow cold. Frozen on me in a lifeless stare, with a small smile, he dies. I couldn't have save him even if I'd tried.

I couldn't even save one man from killing himself. Just as I was selfishly thinking about myself. If, maybe, I had- I could've- maybe-

"I'm sorry... Father... I should have opened the door sooner."

_His gaze will join the many in my head from since this all started. _The eyes of the dead are always on me. Sometimes my mind starts questioning if Canada's will open and look at me, like they had when he was lying in Russia's arms. It haunts me in my dreams. I wake up screaming every time I close my eyes. I glance at my brother propped against the chapel wall and walk over to him, picking him up as gently as I can.

I walk through the middle of the isle, not looking at the Reverend or the blood, only looking straight ahead as I walk to the front. My eyes never leave the statue on the wall. In front of it is a coffin. It's untouched, as if put here for when I arrived. There are flowers surrounding it, also fresh. I look at the man in the second row, then at Matthew, and up at the crucified Jesus Christ. In silence, with fast approaching tears, I lower Canada's body into the coffin.

He can sleep here, where he can't be disturbed. Without moving my stare from my brother's calm expression, I murmur, "This is my brother. He died a while back, but I still brought him with me. Maybe that was the wrong thing to do... I can't make up my mind on it.. um-"

I meet his wooden eye. He looks back blankly, "I don't know what you're thinking. I don't know whether you're looking on me with... pity? Disgust? Sadness? Maybe... maybe you don't care. I mean... I always thought I was closer to you- because of who I am . I always thought I was blessed with the miracle of being a nation. Ageless... strong... powerful... "

My gaze hardens, "Able to mean something to the world. So I can make a difference. That's why you created me, God. Am I wrong? Do I not exist to help others? I don't understand. What did I do to deserve this? Where did I go wrong? Why is Matthew dead- he's never done anything wrong- Why must I live with this punishment... _why..._"

I pause, feeling myself come close to tears, "I- I know I've sinned in the past. Maybe my original purpose has distorted over the years- I mean... I've killed. I hadn't killed directly with my own hands as much as other nations, or even as much as some of my people at times, but... under my orders, so many people've died, for my safety. _To fight for my country _they would say. To hear that so many times... it gets to my head. After what happened with Japan... people became _scared_ of me. Others started to say I've become a superpower. Bombs became an expected answer to international problems. England said... he says I'm going to fall into the same trap he fell into, if I'm careful. Canada felt that too. But they stood by me. They trusted me even after thinking all that. Even after England said he was scared of what I was becoming. Is that it? You've taken Matthew away from me because of what I'm becoming? My faith's gone to other places, maybe, like my government... my job... my family- my _friends. _I mean- so what if I'm not so strong of a Christian...! I didn't think losing a little faith over the years would come to this..."

I rip my eyes away from the statue to blink frustrated tears away. Quietly, I murmur, "Mattie... _I'm so sorry... I should've saved you... I should've..._"

It takes me a long time to compose myself. Once I'm nearly drained of tears, I trail off, feeling tired and dull.

"You can rest here. I won't disturb you any longer. You'll be safe, I promise."

I place my forehead against his cold head, and hold it for a moment, holding it for the last time.

"Goodbye, and goodnight, Canada. Sweet dreams."

I stand up and smile sadly down at him.

"I love you... so much..."

As I barely manage to turn away, I walk down the aisle, somehow able to shed one last tear as I leave him behind. It's painfully hard to let go, but I need to. I've promised to stay strong. _For Canada. _

_I can't run any more. _

_I've been believing in something so distant  
>As if I was human<br>And I've been denying this feeling of hopelessness  
>In me.<br>All the promises I made  
>Just to let you down<br>You believed in me, but I'm broken  
>I have nothing left<br>And all I feel is this cruel wanting  
>We've been falling for all this time<br>And now I'm lost in paradise  
>As much as I'd like the past not to exist<br>It still does  
>And as much as I'd like to feel like I belong here<br>I'm just as scared as you  
>I have nothing left<br>And all I feel is this cruel wanting  
>We've been falling for all this time<br>And now I'm lost in paradise  
>Run away, run away<br>One day we won't feel this pain anymore  
>Take it all away<br>Shadows of you  
>Cause they won't let me go<br>Until I have nothing left  
>And all I feel is this cruel wanting<br>We've been falling for all this time  
>And now I'm lost in paradise<br>_

_Alone, and lost in paradise _


	7. Chapter 6, Italy, Part 2

_Italy, Part 2, March 2010_

Not much to say, really, without repeating myself. So, straight in with chapter 6!

I can't seem to view my story stats so I don't know who to thank for now *awkward laugh*

This chapter will help give a more rounded view of what's going on. So yes- enjoy~

_NOTE: Before France visits England and finds out about the news of Russia's death._

"Big brother France, have you heard from Germany yet?"

He gives me a blank look, as if forgetting for a moment.

Then he nods, "We've been given news that Germany is keeping good defence on the Polish Front. It's in Warsaw, so hopefully Poland is still okay and fighting too."

I don't normally care about battle plans, but at a time like this it reminds me of Germany, so I encourage France to list our allies.

"The Russians have taken over, by the looks of it, the Baltic States, Belarus and Ukraine, Romania, and Hungary. We have Germany, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Belgium, Austria, Poland... they're all fighting to keep the soviets at bay. "

"The Soviets?" I echo, uneasy, "Isn't that what Russia used to live under when he was with the other Eastern countries?"

"Angleterre's been starting to call them that. Seeing as it's pretty much the countries from the Soviet Union against us... I don't like it much, but..."

"Are Hungary and the others okay?"

France sighs softly and looks down, "I don't know. Hungary is in bad shape, Italy. I won't lie to you. After being invaded, a lot of them are. We can only hope they're all still alive and fighting on our side..."

My mind wanders to how the war might look. Battling in Warsaw... I've visited Poland enough times to be able to imagine the place clearly, but don't like to think of any of it being destroyed. I hope everything is okay.

Romano is sitting quite a way away on the other side of the table, scowling at the whole conversation, whilst pretending not to listen.

I tug at his sleeve, "You can ask questions too Lovi!"

"I don't want to! I'm not involved in this so leave me out of it!"

He's been like this since we arrived at France's house. It's been a few months now. Neither of us wondered whether we should be going to Spain's house any time soon, and I take care not to mention it. I'm happy here, for now. When Germany was informed we were staying in Paris for a while longer, he couldn't protest. There's no rush after all. This way, we're closer to home if we're needed, and we can still enjoy some pretty sites without having to worry about being too far away from Germany. But... we can't visit him. Or Switzerland. Or Belgium. They're all fighting. It's just me, Romano, France, Britain and Spain left neutral.

France keeps telling me he want to join the war but won't unless England does. He says he'll visit him and talk to him about it when we move to Spain's house.

I wonder why England isn't here. He doesn't visit. I always thought he was really nosey about big wars like this, but he doesn't want to get involved. I'm surprised America hasn't either. I heard France talk to him on the phone last week, and he sounded really confident about his defence back at his place. The Russians got into Canada but he's okay too, staying with America in New York.

They'll be okay.

America's big and strong like Germany. He's got his own problems, so he can't help us in Europe yet. Hopefully he won't use any nuclear weapons like he threatened with Russia back in the cold war between them. I'm confused why that isn't something to worry about with Germany and the others. No-ones used bombs yet. I hope it stays that way- bombs are scary...

Maybe Russia is fighting in Warsaw too- but against us, I mean. He's not very good at organising his attack though; the invasion is really messy, in all directions actually. They're all over the place. France says it's because he's gone insane, but I don't think so. He's not crazy... is he?

Japan's okay. He hasn't had any signs of invasion at all, lucky him. Asia hasn't been touched. Maybe I should move there instead of to Madrid with Spain. I'll live with Japan in Tokyo instead. I like Tokyo. It's got pretty lights.

So maybe Russia is only aiming for North America and Europe. I wonder if he's trying to make a Russian Empire. That would be silly- but... Germany tried it so maybe it's a popular idea. Grandpa Rome didn't do too well in the end... his empire fell, and the British Empire did too. Though... Canada, Australia and that lot made the common wealth after that...

… maybe Russia's just lonely. He always has been, I guess. I feel a little sad... he wanted to be friends with me a few years ago and I was too scared to accept. Maybe I should have been his friend. He probably isn't scary when you get to know him. Like Germany! When this all ends, that'll be the first thing I do. I'll make friends with Russia, and he'll be happy again!

"Romano... when do you want to go to big brother Spain's?"

"I don't know, leave me alone."

I do as he says but give France a look of worry. He shrugs back. I sulk outside, hoping to see a spot of sunshine to remind me of home. It's kind of cloudy in Paris today. It had been really snowy when we first came here in December. But it's nearly Spring now. March will bring warmer weather, I'm sure. I wonder what the weather's like in Warsaw...

_I miss Germany... _and I'm really worried about Hungary and the others.

I hope everyone's okay. Germany saidhe wouldn't let the Soviets invade any further, and I know he'll keep to his word. I trust him to protect us.

After all, he promised me he would.

_'We are asking the nations of Europe between whom rivers of blood have flowed to forget the feuds of a thousand years.'_


	8. Chapter 7, Lithuania Part 1

**Chapter 7 – Lithuania Part 1**

**Slower update - sorry about that…**

**Jo, Maeryln, thank you ^u^ *laughs***

**Glad you liked it, and I'm sorry about having to put deaths in so early on. I feel evil but it's all part of the plot! *gets shot***

**Anyway, this is Lithuania's first part, starting from where Russia's ended (Moscow alleyway in November)**

**Enjoy~**

…_Is he gone?_

Nervously, I peer around the wall into the alleyway.

There are only footsteps and the distant sound of disaster around me in the streets. The snow and my paralysing fear have made my movements lifeless, numb all over, as I step out.

My shallow and uneven breaths come out in clouds on the cold air as I gaze around.

Where did Russia go? The terrifying chase from just now had made me sure that I was going to die bitterly, but… it seems he's disappeared. Did he run away? Or maybe he's hiding, waiting to lure me out. I take cautious steps forward, wincing at every loud crunch of snow and ice as I walk. But I reach the open path without so much as his footsteps on the ground to tell me where he is. I follow with my eyes the trail heading off, deep and spread out in a sprint across the road. He's gone. A part of me wonders what made him run, stifled by an overwhelming relief that washes over me in the form of a long sigh.

I don't know why Russia chased me. I don't know why he sat over Belarus crying, holding her dead body as if he hadn't just killed her. I don't understand. All I know is she's dead, and Russia did it, before he then came after us to do the same.

Ukraine. My mind is shaken of fear for a moment as I worry for the older nation's safety. I start running through the havoc of the streets to find where she fell. I mustn't lose her for too long; everyone is panicking and becoming manically violent, and she's possibly hurt. Whilst keeping a nervous eye out for Russia, I look for Ukraine. I find her by the meeting hall doors. She's sat in the middle of the snow covered road. I approach her with a fresh wave of sadness at her grief, falling to my knees in front of her weakly, "Yekaterina…?"

She looks up, face stained with tears, "Li-Lithuania… she's dead… she's-"

I watch as she sobs uncontrollably into her younger sister's shoulder in her arms, unable to give any word of comfort. I should be able to say something, but my throat is tight and my voice is lost as I look at the nation I loved. My body has been drained of emotion besides numbing fear. An unbearable terror fuelled by the fear all around me. It's drawn from the blaze of the fire opposite us in the street, brightening our faces in a blinding, searing light, yet I feel as cold as the snow under my feet as I look at her. Natalya…

A tear rolls down my cheek. _Why has this happened to you?_

Ukraine is a little manic, seeming to be talking to herself more than me, "I-Ivan didn't do this - he didn't mean to, he mustn't have done - he would never kill our little sister…!"

"No… this wasn't an accident. I'm sorry Ukraine, but…" I meet her eye, and try to sound confident as I say, "Russia's changed. He isn't the brother you knew yesterday."

"Are you saying he's gone mad?" She cries, angrier than before. "How could you say that, Tolys?"

"I-I'm just suggesting that-"

"No - he would never…" She refuses to listen, standing up. She trails off and stares at me, shaking her head in disbelief as tears continues to stream from her pain filled eyes. Then she turns and runs.

"UKRAINE- WAIT-!" I call in alarm.

She's abandoned me.

My feet keep me put as I watch her go, cursing. She'll get herself killed. But I wouldn't want to chase her…

I gaze down at Belarus. _I can't leave you here… _It wouldn't be right. I pick her up gently from the blood stained snow around her, a shudder running down my back as more of it poured from her mouth and onto my coat sleeve. I find my car eventually, and try to escape down the road, but without running over anything - it's nearly impossible. But I need to find the other nations. I need to warn them before it's too late. They need to know the truth - Russia killed Belarus and may be after the others. Putting my worries aside, I slam my foot down on the acceleration and race down the street, aiming to get out of Moscow and to find Estonia and Latvia, Belarus safely in the back. I don't know where Ukraine will go, but she wouldn't want to stay with me. I can only pray she'll go deeper into Europe and inform the nations there. I hope she'll be alright. I can only convince myself now to keep my goals straight. I must reach the other two, before Russia does…

… because wherever he is, he's after us. All of us. And Belarus was most probably the first on his list…

_**Germany part 1**_** -** **lucky you, another part (actually, these are both reasonably short so they should be together. I wouldn't want to disappoint you with the short length…)**

**Set April 2010 - time gap again… to help you I'll give you the statuses of some of the nations. (Some of this may not have been yet mentioned in previous chapters)**

_America - wandering. Possibly near Pennsylvania or otherwise outside New York City._

_Italy - Paris, with Romano, England and France._

_Location unknown: Lithuania, Ukraine, Sealand, Poland and others._

**Enjoy…**

It's been four months since going to war with Russia and his allies. We've been pushed out of Warsaw, and slowly out of Poland. We're losing troops… Hungary and Austria are especially weak; more men are needed in their own countries to defend as the invasions widen. We've lost contact due to the situation we are in, so we can only rely on the news from a month ago that Britain and France will join us to try and gain back control.

I glance hopelessly at the nations around me in the meeting room, unable to show the confidence I had felt in December. Austria speaks up quietly, breaking the grim silence that had sunk in the room, "We need to think of a different strategy."

"But how?" Switzerland shows bitter anger in his tone, which he had inherited through a significant loss in his army, "They're too strong. We can't fight them."

"Big brother… I'm sure there is some way to…"

"- a conclusion needs to be made! Whilst we're talking around a table, our men are dying!" He stands up, slamming his hands against the desk.

"Switzerland, sit down. Your anger will not help us win this war." Austria seems dismissive, if noticeably drained of energy.

Belgium speaks up, "We need to contact England and France somehow, before we make any mistakes creating a new strategy. We need back-up."

"-and what about Ukraine?" Liechtenstein asks, meaning to aim the question at the whole table but naturally looking at Switzerland, "We haven't seen her since we lost Poland…"

"There's nothing we can do."

"How are we going to contact them?"

"We could send someone through Germany to reach Paris, maybe."

"We need all our men." I mutter, shaking my head, "We can't send over a group, it would risk us being pushed back more."

"But Germany, a small group wouldn't-"

"I'll go." Switzerland cuts in. Everyone gazes at him, hesitating.

I protest immediately, "Your men need you here, and you aren't in good condition. I refuse-"

"I'm closest to France, so I'll be nearer to my country by going. I can make plans with him there."

"… and your men?"

"Liechtenstein can take command."

"Big brother-!" She stares at him, alarmed, "I couldn't-"

"I can trust you, Liechtenstein. Don't let me down."

She nods meekly, saying nothing and showing only nervousness. Everyone regretfully agrees to letting him go. His sister is the last to agree, starting to look strained. It must be hard for her - she isn't normally involved under these sorts of conditions; to let her brother go when he has been the one constant support-

It takes me back to when I was young, when Prussia brought me up.

I can't help but feel a little sympathetic.

We all go back to our individual duties with our troops, but before I go, I talk to her.

"Liechtenstein…"

She jumps visibly and turns around, immediately shying, "G-guten tag, Germany… "

"Don't worry about Switzerland. He's a strong nation. In the time that I've known him, I've at least learnt that. We're all here… to - to support you."

I feel slightly embarrassed comforting her, and with awkwardness I give her a pat on the shoulder. She nods.

"I… I understand…"

She hurries off after another nod, and I watch her go. I have to admit, I'm worried about how she will manage from here on in. We haven't given up yet, but our efforts are starting to become weaker than their's. Things may be more difficult from now on. We need France and England now. They're our best hope for pushing the enemy back…

It's up to Switzerland now.

"_We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools."_


	9. Chapter 8, England, Part 2

**Chapter 8**

**Hey guys~ England part 2 now -u-**

**Thought I'd start thanking some of those who favourite and alerted, so-**

**Kobatanuki 2-C (U.S), Koure (U.S), 97chaoscat (U.S), somethingawkward (U.S?), TokyoTwinkle (U.S), MidnightTheHedgei777 (U.S), xNAHVx (?), chickenkitty (?), Geeres (U.K), Anactolica (U.K), and Maiya123 (U.S). **

**So, um… mainly greetings to those in the U.S! Thank you all! (Hello my fellow British~ is the weather better where you are? It seems just plain COLD here in the south of England, I don't know about you. Also, it never snowed over Christmas, which is a bummer)**

**Hope you like this… (I doubt sometimes ; n ;)**

**Anyway, enough of me, on with the chapter…**

**March 2010**

"Alright, with these I can give a good plan of action… From what we were told, the front is in Poland…"

I frown at the notes and detailed plans one more time before placing them in my suitcase, ready to be taken to Paris for a brief with France. My eldest brother amongst the three sitting opposite me, Scotland, puts out his cigarette in my glass of water and says, "So you really want to do this."

That's the first thing he's said to me since he's sat down. Irritated to say the least, I reply, "_Yes, _I'm sure. Seeing as you three won't necessarily be joining me-"

"No-one said that. Just… not now." Wales interrupts, a tad bit shy under the suddenly tense atmosphere. Northern Ireland just sighs at us all.

"This is only one meeting. We can sort this out another time, lads. Let him have his playtime and we'll talk to him later."

_Playtime…?_ "I'm joining a WAR, not off creating a new child's game." I glare at the brown haired Irishman with little patience, "This is serious."

"Well now, off you go Arthur. You don't want to miss your flight."

I roll my eyes at the dismissive reply and pick up my things, leaving the Houses of Parliament after permission from my boss. France will be expecting me. We spoke only an hour ago about what we were going to put forward as our contributions to the war effort. I can supply equipment, bring in troops, especially my navy if need be, and can most certainly contribute to the front in Warsaw. The phone call from a week ago has, rather reluctantly, been pushed out of my mind for now, because of this war in Europe. Of course, I'm still highly concerned with Canada and America's safety, but the frustration of being able to do nothing cannot help me in this war. This is all about prioritising. Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland are neutral as of today, but will supply good none the less towards the output of Britain. I'm used to representing the four of us, so I don't expect a huge amount of military contribution from the three of them. No doubt some will join, but…

I take my flight to Paris in haste. I spend the time restlessly checking through my suitcase to double check, triple check that I have my plans.

… whilst trying not to look at my mobile so much. The temptation to try and contact America… or his boss… since the first phone call, I have been given vague information on the incident. Mr Anderson, or whatever his name is, has told me that America's disappearance is still a mystery along with Canada's. He left his phone, his wallet, his car keys - all his belongings at home, as if he walked out, or… I haven't been told whose blood was amongst Russia's, but there was definitely a separate assault. The one piece of information I wanted, and I still don't know if the both of them are okay.

Apparently Russia has been sent to the morgue for analysis. The sheer thought of that makes my blood run cold. I still can't believe he's dead. Belarus was bad enough, but _Russia_ too? What could have possibly led to this? Of all the wars, no country has died, for_ centuries_. Never before has a nation died in a war in such a - seemingly _easy_ way. Not since… the Roman Empire, I believe. To compare such a powerful nation as him to two I've known since I was barely a nation myself… it makes my life - my duty, everything I had thought to be above the life of a mortal human, to be… weak.

I have lived for nearly 2000 years. I am, or rather, I had always thought… I was practically immortal. I've survived war after war, epidemics, extreme conditions - everything. I've lived through generations of Kings and Queens, I've seen my own Empire rise and fall…

… I have seen nations grow up, some to grow up to fight me when I am no longer important in their lives.

Through all this, to hear that a country can die from a single gunshot, a stab in a fatal place, _anything_… it burns down any security of being safe that I had built from my long life as a nation. Russia died of a slit throat, Belarus died from falling out a window.

How will I die?

I never even thought about it before now.

If I die, what will happen to my people? Will they live under a different name? Will my people no longer live in England, and instead my land will be adopted under another's? I can't possibly imagine what will happen to Russia and Belarus' land. All I know is that their people are alive - and invading.

I feel ill from the ideas reeling inside my head. What will happen to us… will we be able to defend ourselves if the enemy grows stronger?

Again, the small voice at the back of my conscience asks _where is America and Canada?_

If only I could -

My phone rings. In a sudden panic I pick it up, "H-hello?"

"It's France. We've lost contact with Germany."

I pause to let that sink in.

"What? Completely?"

"Our connections cut off. We can't contact any of them."

"Shit… what are we going to do?"

I hear him sigh. He sounds stressed, "I don't know. How long is it until you arrive?"

"About half an hour."

"Get here as soon as you can. I'll see you soon."

Once I've landed in Paris, I head straight to the meeting room. France is waiting at the gates. He hurries me in. Once we're inside, he faces me with a grim expression.

"They've been pushed out of Warsaw. That's the last I heard before I was cut off."

"There must be some way of getting hold of them…"

"I've tried everything. I can only guess that the Soviets were something to do with it."

"It's possible…"

"_D'accord_… this is what we're going to do. We'll send over our troops without joint consent from the rest of the nations and hope we'll find them on the way-"

I frown, automatically cynical, "Wait a tick, isn't that a little reckless?"

"When you've lived as long as I have, reckless is sometimes good, _mon cher_."

"Back when we used swords and arrows, maybe - but we're talking about _now! _We could be wiped out if we tried doing this on our own-! What if we don't find them and have to face the whole bloody Soviet army by ourselves?"

"We either send our troops or sit here like ducks, _Angleterre_…"

"Then we wait." I cross my arms, scowling, "I'm not charging in without thorough plans."

"If you think that's the way to go…" Reluctant, he gives in to waiting, "All we can do is look like imbeciles until then. You know… we could always promote an alliance with Spain."

"We wouldn't get very far. I'm sure he would rather stay neutral."

"This isn't a normal war, Arthur. Don't you see it? Riots are happening, _everywhere._ Not just in Russia. Something is happening. A global revolution - I don't know, but this is going to keep spreading. I can feel it… this is bigger than World War 2. "

Trying to hide my growing anxiety, I ask, "Wh-what are you suggesting? A third World War…?"

France's expression darkens.

"I'm afraid it's arrived."

_"I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones."_

_**AHHHHH I'm sorry these chapters are so short! I'll try to make them longer -shot-**_


	10. Chapter 9, Canada

_**Canada...**_

_**If only I could change... what happened.**_

_**I'm sorry.**_

_**Can you hear me...?**_

_**... I'm so sorry... Please, wake up.**_

_**WAKE UP!**_

_.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-._

I couldn't hold them back. The Russians broke passed the defence.

In panic, I sent a plea of help. He couldn't send troops. He had his own problems. But he welcomes me in open arms when I arrive, in New York... my brother. I felt treacherous for leaving my home, my people... but they joined me.

Everyone ran.

America... I'm starting to feel ill... My land is being taken over, my people are being captured... killed...

But my people are safe- in Pennsylvania, where the war hasn't touched the land.

His people are fighting on the West Coast and on the border between our countries. I suppose it's only a matter of time before they break through that too.

France called, to check if we were alright. At the time, we could have been better, but we were surviving. Everything was okay. America seemed interested in the European side of the war and I protested strongly against him getting involved. It would only weaken his defences...

America may claim to want to help and save everyone, but he must concentrate on the matter at hand, here.

So when the day arrives, I call France again.

"Mathieu... are you alright?"

"Y-yes... the defences are holding up, just about. I'm... just a little scared... Why hasn't England-?"

"I don't know. I would help, but the war here... it's difficult. I've been trying to get Angleterre to join us, but he won't. I'm sorry, Canada..."

"I understand." I grip the phone, my voice quiet, "It's hard on your side too..."

"Please... be careful. Stay close to Alfred - he'll help you. You have your brother to protect you."

"I-I don't need protecting, I just need help... and it's more for his ego than for me..."

"Mathieu! America may act like he doesn't care, but really – he does. If things die down on my side, I'll help. I promise."

"Okay..." I can barely speak as I say goodbye, before placing the phone down and returning to the bedroom, where America is lounging.

He certainly looks like he's being 'serious' about this war.

"Alfred, people are dying out there and you're having a nap like nothing is happening."

He scowls at me, "The boss said to stay here until we're called. What else am I meant to do?"

I sit down, my expression dull, "I don't know anymore..."

There's a small pause. Then he asks sullenly, "Is everyone... okay over there?"

"I'm not sure. France said it's difficult, but I'm guessing it's being handled."

His quiet moment evaporates into a huge grin, "Saves me having to haul my butt over there to save them."

I sigh softly and roll my eyes, "You brag too much."

"Just because I-"

He stops.

"What's wrong?" He raises his hand, silencing me, "Ame-?"

He starts to say something but then I hear it too. the sounds of knocking.

"Shh- can you hear that?" I hiss.

He glances in the direction of the sound, "There's someone at the door. Maybe it's-"

A heavy weight settles in my stomach when he stands up. I pull at his sleeve, "Don't answer it! We need to stay here!"

_Don't go- please-_

"But..." He frowns at me, then back at the door, "I need to check. Wait here, okay? I won't be long."

"Be careful."

America gives me a smouldering look, gripping his baseball bat with both hands, before approaching the door.

"Be careful!"

"Matthew, shut up." He growls, listening out. He looks on edge; his teeth are gritted, his expression is a strained calm. He is well aware of the danger we are in. He's taking the risk.

I hold my tongue, deciding not to protest further.

Cautiously, America opens the door, and disappears.

_... be careful, Alfred._

I stay on the bed. I don't dare move from it. I listen to every slow, steady footstep down the hall. After a considerable amount of silence, footsteps come back.

... heavy.

Uneven.

Footsteps.

They don't sound like they belong to America.

And, for the first time, I wonder what I have to protect myself with.

He was my lifeline. I don't want to be protected, I can protect myself. I... I don't need my brother- I don't-

_Where are you. Why can't you hear the footsteps. Please- I'm scared-_

The door is pushed open. Very. Slowly.

I stare with wide eyes, holding my breath. Those heavy, uneven footsteps come to a stop- from snow boots, dried blood turning the once white material red.

I follow the blood up, following the trail... until I find myself staring at purple eyes.

As terrified as my own.

I can barely speak, something caught in my throat, "R-Russia?"

He just smiles. He takes a few steps towards me, and I cower back, kicking at the sheets, my breathing suddenly very rapid and panicked.

"Russia? Wh-what are you- no- don't! Please!

" I try and get as far away as possible, but fall off the bed, hitting the floor. Winded, I stare in horror as he looks over me.

With a sickeningly terrible laugh, he grabs me by the front of my throat, pulling me off the ground – choking me.

Petrified, I'm finally able to scream.

"AMERICA!"

My breathing is cut off. I can't breath- he can't hear me- I can't call out for help.

_I can't... do anything..._

_Alfred... you were meant to protect me._


	11. Chapter 10, Sealand, Part 1

**Sealand, Part 1**

Hey guys! Sorry that the previous chapter was so short – I wanted to keep Canada's only part simple. Here's Sealand's debut now. Don't worry, he isn't going to spontaneously die- like so many nations so far... (I apologise for my lack of mercy... I regret nothing.)

I've been fighting illness, snow, and... other things, so these updates have been very irregular. I'll try to update more often, but it's difficult! (As France would say...)

This chapter is set December, 2009- at the beginning of the war.

Anyway, enjoy... and yes, Sealand can walk on water in this.

Also, a short amv that has become the summary of my story (in memory flashbacks- they come in later chapters): .com/watch?v=37t8oa82Z4w

The song is Pieces, by Red...

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"_Finland?"_

_No answer..._

"_Finland!"_

The phone's cut off.

I try redialling, but no one answers.

Concerned, I try to phone Sweden.

Again... no answer.

Is my line down? Maybe the power has gone...

I run up to ground level and gaze out to the sea- east. In the direction of the Nordics. I look for any sign of trouble; I heard about the invasion of Russia, but that's all I've heard. England wouldn't tell me anything about it apart from that it doesn't concern me. But it does. So yes, I'm only a small country, but I have people I care about. Latvia is really close to where the invasion is, and Finland and Sweden- where are they? _What happened to them..._

With a small hesitation I leap down from the platform, landing on the water lightly. Finding my balance on the surface, I run forward; I mustn't dawdle if I'm going to be of help. I may not be very big, but I'm still strong, and I can stand up to anyone. Even Russia! I first heard the news a few weeks ago, back in November. It's December now, and it's a little difficult to run when the wind is so strong here. I'll be alright though. Fully kitted for winter, I continue to keep a steady pace along the water, jumping over bigger waves to land on the other side. I've ran longer lengths before; I tried the Atlantic once to visit America and Canada, but I got tired half way and ended up having to be 'rescued' by America in his helicopter. I insisted that I didn't need saving, but thanked him for the ride anyway. It was a little embarrassing because it made my water-walking skills look silly, but he said it was cool so I suppose it didn't matter. England was livid when he found out. If he knew I was running to see the Nordics at a time like this, he would be furious.

I wonder what America and Canada are doing right now... Last I heard, they were preparing for their defence against Russia. I hope they're alright. But I don't think they're having any problems yet. I must concentrate on finding the Nordics instead of worrying about them.

After a while of sprinting along the deep blue waves, I notice that the air has become icier. Then, after a few more miles, it begins to snow. For once, I'm not excited about it. I'm getting a bad feeling... Something isn't right.

My fears are only heightened when I spot land ahead- Denmark. Bellowing smoke rises from the shore, like a terrible omen. A warning- telling me to run away. But I continue forward. What could have happened? Is he alright?

... and if Denmark is in danger... what about Finland and Sweden?

They're a lot closer to Russia... _No... please tell me they're alright... _

I finally reach the shore, squinting through the snow falling thickly in front of me, to gaze at the local town. Everything seems perfectly alright here... It's strangely quiet. Not a sound apart from the distant roar of smoke up ahead, closer now.

So I keep running forward. I try to call Finland again, but again- no answer. Another nation springs to mind, and suddenly I feel very ill. Latvia. I dial his number as I continue through empty streets.

-it rings.

I skid to a halt, causing snow to spray up from my feet. Surrounded by the cold, in an unfamiliar town, I wait. My heart thuds painfully in my chest.

... then someone answers.

"Hello, Peter."

It isn't Latvia. My heart stops beating, too petrified to move along with the rest of me, as I manage.

"... R-Russia...?"

I can almost hear the crooked smile in his voice as he says, "I haven't heard from you in a while. How are you?"

"Where's Latvia!" I demand, "What have you done to my friends!"

"It counts who you mean... because some of them were very naughty, Sealand. They were going to tell on me."

"Because you're invading them!"

"I'm not _invading_, I'm protecting myself. Everyone's invading _me._"

"But- wh-why would everyone attack you-? What have you done with-"

"He's dead."

I lose my voice. Something is caught in my throat.

"-and Estonia too. They're both dead. They were going to hurt me, I had to-"

"You're wrong. You're lying."

"No, they're dead. I cut across their throats with a kitchen knife."

I let out a small whimper of horror, unable to believe what I'm hearing, "No- NO! You're lying- shut up- you're lying-!"

"You can come and see for yourself if you want. If you see Lithuania, tell him he's not going to get away from me. I'm better at hide-and-seek..."

He hangs up. I throw the mobile away from my ear and into the snow in panic, screaming blindly. He's lying. He can't have killed them. Nations can't die. That's stupid- impossible!

Russia... couldn't have...

_Latvia... please tell me you're not dead... you can't be._

I look again at the smoke rising from the land ahead, dark and menacing.

...and for the first time since I got here, I consider turning back. I can't do this on my own. I'm... scared.

But if I turn back, I could be leaving my friends in danger.

I couldn't do that. I have to find them. I _need_ to find them. I know he's still alive- he has to be.

I make my way forward.

_I have to find them. Before it gets dark..._

_Fears are products of the self conscious._

_Every fear has a root._

_It will not go away unless conquered._

_The conquest itself depends on ourselves._

_The strength lies inside._

_... **Conquer the fear.**_


	12. Chapter 11, England, Part 3

_This must be in the Guinness Book of World Records for being the latest update known to man- alright, that's an over exaggeration , but I'm sorry for the super duper late update! I hope you enjoy this one- __**England, Part 3, April 2010.**_

_. . . Are they gone?_

I thought I heard footsteps, but. . .

I peer around the corner of the brick wall to the open road, holding my breath. The streets of Paris have become awfully quiet, these past few days.

The group of soldiers I had seen pass just now have gone. I glance behind me to the rest of the group. France nods to me when I gaze at him. I look past him to see the Italy brothers waiting anxiously for me to give the all clear.

"They're gone."

We walk out gingerly, taking painfully slow steps across the stone ground. Ahead, I stare at France's house, not wanting to look anywhere in case I catch sight of something awful. It's not unlikely, since the war started to affect Paris and the rest of France. Yet, despite being determined to keep my mind on our destination, I can't help but glance behind, to reassure myself that the other three are still behind me. It's strange- having to rely on yourself without your government, your men or your army behind you. I lost my troops when we attempted to ward off the invasion from the German border, to try and stop the war from reaching France. I lost almost my whole army. So many died… My navy are useless this far in land, and can only wait in anticipation for when the invasion tries to cross The Channel to the south of my country.

We reach the house and rush inside. Safe, France sighs, "D'accord. . . everyone alright?"

Italy and Romano nod once, silent. I murmur a yes under my breath and look to the floor. He walks numbly into the living room and sits down, exhausted. He's been getting worse recently. Despite my underlying anger towards his failure from our defence on the border- the one that led me to lose half a million troops- I'm still. . . concerned. The conditions in Paris are nowhere near as terrible as the neighbouring areas in the south of the country. Since the invasion reached him, things have been getting worse.

We still don't have contact with the Eastern Nations. Since March. . . nothing. We can only assume something went disastrously wrong for the invasion to have broken through so quickly. The Italy's are too terrified to go back to their own country to defend themselves against the ongoing attack, no matter how I try to persuade them to go. They've latched onto France for now, leaving their government to make battle plans on their own. My own government is making preparations for a defence rather than a planned attack. I can't afford to lose anymore men if I'm still yet to be attacked.

Italy looks at me with unease, "Should we talk to big brother France? He looks ill. . ."

"I don't see any point. . . We can't do anything until we get a reply from Germany."

"What if he never-" Romano is cut off by his brother, who looks oddly confident.

"Germany will find us."

". . . Feliciano, we haven't heard from him in months."

"He'll find us. He just lost his phone- or something- he's. . . he's stronger than that."

I don't know the right words to say. We've had reports from several eastern countries, describing destroyed cities and riots. We've been informed that several nations have died. If Russia's dead. . . Then six have been confirmed deceased. Belarus was the first. Ukraine came straight to us, but later disappeared. We don't know her exact location as of the last few months. We know that both Latvia and Estonia are dead. Lithuania gave us a distress call in February, but we've never found a follow up. So many could be gone. . .

If a nation had disappeared seventy years ago, we would have assumed he or she had gotten lost, or failed to find a connection. But things are different now. Our titles as nations aren't as powerful as they used to be. _Russia, Belarus, Latvia, Estonia, Poland, Denmark. . . _

Names I've known for hundreds of years. I never imagined that one day I'd hear of their deaths, of all things. How many more could be dead, or hurt? Lithuania, Ukraine, Hungary, Austria, Romania, Greece, Liechtenstein, Switzerland, Germany, Turkey, Norway, Belgium, Netherlands, Iceland, Sweden, Finland. . . Canada. . .

_America._

_Where are you?_

I'm worried sick. I hate that I have no way of contacting anyone- not even my brothers. Sealand even went missing a few months ago.

_Where is everyone?_

This is truly World War 3. France has been claiming it for a while. Italy and Romano refuse to believe it. After 70 years, why would the world fall into such a war again? I wish I could just have some answers- but there are too many questions. . .

. . . And now we've resorted to hiding. We have no men to fight. This war is out of control unless we can find a way of reaching the eastern nation. In the long silence, I finally speak up, "Italy, Germany will be alright. We'll find him if he doesn't find us."

He looks at me with round brown eyes, welling up with tears. He can only nods weakly. I turn to Romano, "I want you and Italy to go to Madrid and find Spain."

"What? Why?"

I lift my head, "I'm going out to find them."

A heavy thud sounds behind us. We look to the doorway of the living room, where France meets my eye, face shadowed, body language meek but voice unwavering, "I'm coming with you."

"France. . ."

"You can't say anything to change my mind. I'm coming with you."

I open my mouth to protest, angry, but I've lost my voice. I can only stare at him as he says, "We can head towards Belgium and the Netherlands to search for survivors. It would be dangerous to go through Germany."

He turns around, standing taller- more like his old self. I find my voice.

"Don't do this. You're weak-"

"Me? Weak? Angleterre. . ." He chuckles smoothly, ". . . It takes more than one invasion to defeat _moi_."

"W-Wanker- stop trying to be a bloody Hero-" My words backfire and I find myself stung, trailing off. Every nation in the room notices.

"We'll find him too." France murmurs, catching my pained gaze, "If we can collect as many nations as possible to create a strong alliance against the Soviets- America will show up. Maybe he's still defending in his own country-"

"He's missing, you know he is." My voice is harsh and bitter, and I don't apologise. There's no point in hiding my pain, not at this point; but I won't look weak.

"We'll find him." France repeats, eyes hard on me.

_I wish I could believe you, Francis. _

"We'll leave tomorrow. Have a good nights rest, Arthur."

I hesitate, ready to bark back a retort for being ordered around, but think better if it. I rub my face in exhaustion and grimace. Then I mutter, "Very well. . ."

Tonight I won't sleep well, no matter how hard I try to stop my mind from racing with questions. Fretting about where everyone is. Where America is. . .

_Alfred, I'm scared. I don't even know if you're alive._

_Where are you?_

"_**It doesn't matter how much, how often, or how closely you keep an eye on things because you can't control it. Sometimes things and people just go. Just like that." **_


	13. Chapter 12, Lithuania, Part 2

**Lithuania, Part 2**

Hey guys- things are going back to February now.

A little re-cap- Lithuania saw Russia during one of the first riots in Moscow back in November, and saw Belarus dead in his arms along with Ukraine. Since, he hasn't seen both countries, and is currently in search for the other Baltic states. Remember the phone call Sealand received from Russia?

Let's find out what happens…

I find myself staring at an open door.

There's blood on the handle. Heavy footsteps dragging blood leave a trail from the steps I stand by on the porch, into the house. A sickening weight of dread makes my mouth dry and my throat tight. Am I too late?

I take a few nerve-racked steps to the door, wincing as the wood creaks underneath me. When I step foot inside the house, I gaze at the blood leading upstairs. I soon realise, once I move to peak up the stairs cautiously, that there's someone still here. Someone is upstairs. . . talking.

I place one foot on the bottom step. The carpet is soaked in blood. Bile rises to the back of my throat as a shudder runs through me. I place a hand on to the banister. Immediately I pull it back like I've been burnt- more blood is smudged on the wood. I stare at the fresh blood on my hands and clench it into a tight fist, feeling ill. The blood hasn't dried. The impostor hasn't been here long.

Could that mean I'm not too late?

I slink up the stairs. Soon, the inaudible mutter grows louder. I recognise the voice coming from down the hallway. As soon as I do, my blood grows cold. It's Russia. He got here before me. He's talking to someone.

". . . I'm not _invading_, I'm protecting myself. Everyone's invading _me_."

I approach the door and wait, listening to the conversation. My hands tremble as I grip the hem of my coat, biting back my irregular breathing from the fear tight in my chest. I can no longer hold back a horrified gasp when Russia says in a dull tone-

"He's dead."

Who's dead? It can't be-

"-and Estonia too. They're both dead. They were going to hurt me, I had to-"

_No. It can't be. I was too late- no-_

"No, they're dead. I cut across their throats with a kitchen knife."

_NO-_

"You can come and see for yourself if you want. . ." I let out a small, whispered sob into my gloved hands, shaking my head, not daring to listen to anymore. Then, I stop breathing altogether, eyes wide and staring at the wall opposite me as he says, "If you see Lithuania, tell him he's not going to get away from me. I'm better at hide-and-seek..."

The sound of a mobile flipping shut tells me he had been on the phone. My higher concern is why Russia had sounded so gleeful with his last words. As if he…

As if he knows I'm here.

I stumble away in panic, no longer trying to keep quiet. I don't even look back to see if he's following me. I get to the top of the stairs-

"Found you."

Frozen on the top step, I turn my head to stare in horror at the man stood in the hallway. His violet eyes glint with threat, his mouth twisted into a pleased grin.

"You killed them!" I yell, falling towards the banister to get away, tripping onto the next step down.

"I had to. Don't you see, Lithy? They were going to hurt me."

"_You're insane." _I back up another step, "You're completely insane- you're a murderer."

Russia simply smiles a little sadly, "Now it's your turn."

He runs at me.

I break for freedom down the stairs, screaming for him to get away from me, screaming for help. He lunges forward and catches my back with a swipe of something sharp. I slam into the door, shutting my only exit, and dodge another swing of the knife. Russia's face is distorted in terror- why is he afraid-

"PLEASE- STOP-!"

"I WON'T STOP UNTIL EVERY ONE OF YOU IS DEAD!" He growls, voice like gravel, eyes burning with hatred. For a split second I stare at him with shock, the strength of his words hitting me before his fist does moments later. The impact across the jaw blind me- making me cry out. In despair I try and dive past the corner I'm being pushed into to make for the kitchen, but find I can't when another punch sends me into the wall violently.

"Stop I whimper, falling against the wall, trembling, "Think about what you're doing- no one want to kill you. "

"Oh, they do. They all do. They're telling you lies, Tolys. _They're all planning against us._" Russia stands over me. He looks weaker, more fragile, as he hisses, "I'm by myself and all I can do is protect my people."

I manage to scramble away from him, stumbling in a frantic run to the kitchen, catching sight of the back door; he chases me with a laugh, close on my heels as I escape to the other side of the room. I make the mistake of turning back once and meet a sharp blade-

It pierces through the fabric of my coat… and into my shoulder. My eyes snap open, wide- and I meet Russia's cold, hard stare. Something stirs in them- something close to pain. In confusion, I can only blink once. He smiles at me, "It's a shame… I always enjoyed your company, when you lived with me. Yet, you were always far more interested in befriending my sister. She wouldn't look at you, she wouldn't smile at you like I did. You were always so scared of me, Tolys. I wanted to spend time with you and you would run away. Now I've caught you, it's a shame you have to die…"

I pushed forward, and I fall hard on my back. Unable to breath, I can't get away as he pins me to the tile floor, ripping the knife out of me. It looms over me in his grip, my blood dripping onto my skin.

"N-no- wait- DON'T-"

The knife falls down before I can scream.

_**Disarm, disarm. The sword of murder is not the balance of justice. Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession. **_


	14. Chapter 13, America, Part 4

**America, Part 4.**

**Hey guys! I'm not going to be updating next week so I thought I'd give you another chapter early! So here's America, Part 4... June 2010. Previously ended up in Pennsylvania, where he left Canada behind in an abandoned chapel. Later, returned to New York… months later, ended up here…**

**/**

"_I see skies of blue… clouds of white…_"

_I wander through the abandoned, destroyed street, listening to my own voice echo, lonely, off the buildings barely standing on either side of me. _

"_Bright blessed day, dark sacred night…"_

_There's no one here. I've been looking for weeks. It's the same everywhere- every city. No one. Ruins- abandoned besides the dead. There aren't any groups or riots anymore. Just a surreal silence. It's hard to tell what's real anymore. I can't think. The sun scorches my skin, my eyes, my mind- when was the last time I had a drink? Or ate? I thought if I tried to find somewhere overseas, things would be different. But it's the same. _

"…_and I think to myself… what a wonderful world."_

_The road is dusty. It reminds me of the days I spent in Texas a few years back. I'd enjoy myself now if it wasn't for the heavy burden weighing everything I know down. All my thoughts, my movements… lifeless and heavy. A constant reminder of what I've done. It's been 3 months. I've lost track of exactly how many days- since Matthew died. Since Russia died. I'm still numb from it. I recognise the shellshock, cold and harsh from head to toe- gripping me like a ghost. _

…_At times I see them. Staring at me._

**Watching.**

_I wake up screaming from it, with the little sleep I find. They won't leave me alone. It doesn't matter how many times beg and scream to be left at peace- it doesn't matter how many times I apologise. They still follow me._

_I gaze around, too tired and weak to call out. So I continue to sing._

"_I see trees of green… red roses too… I see them bloom, for me and for you…"_

_I glance up as a lone plane flies by. I don't try to get it's attention, and simply continue to wander._

"… _and I think to myself… what a wonderful wor-"_

All of a sudden, the air is knocked out of me. I'm pushed down to the ground- the weight on top of me makes me panic, fumbling frantically for my gun. When I grasp it, it's snatched out of my hand, and that arm is wrenched behind my back. Craning my neck, I find myself glowering up at the silhouette of a man, face shadowed by the sun behind him. The gun is shoved roughly into my temple as the attacker yells,

"WHAT'S 2+2?"

"…what?" I squint, still glaring, and cough as I inhale the dust from the ground I'm pleasantly being shoved in.

"ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION!"

"_FOUR- _Jesus christ-!"

They step off of me. Immediately I push myself up, wiping my mouth. They still have my gun, eyes and gunpoint always on me. I raise my hand dully, showing I don't mean to be a threat. The last thing I want is to be shot- in a way, I deserve worse. The man is shorter than me, and looks strangely familiar.

"What? Don't you recognise me, burger-bastard?"

In the incoherent thoughts of my mind, it clicks. "… Romano."

"At least you remember my name. You look like shit." He snorts, still holding _my gun._

I narrow my eyes, "You can give that back now."

"Like hell am I doing that- I don't trust you, you bastard."

Unable to argue against that, I shrug.

For a moment, there's a tense silence as Romano studies me from a safe distance, still having me at gunpoint.

"What happened to you." He asks cautiously, his face turning suspiciously to the side, giving me a sideward scowl.

"If you think I'm like those mobs- I'm not."

"That's exactly what I'm thinking."

"Then _don't._" I growl in irritation.

He snorts again, "If you're not like them- then where the fuck did that blood come from. It's not yours."

I haven't changed clothes since _that _day. I'm sure I've added more to it travelling here- there have been a few times when I've had to go to extreme boundaries to survive- especially when I travelled to New York. Only adding to my track record of kills, I guess. It doesn't even phase me anymore. I've accepted that I'm a killer.

"Y'know…" A strangely serene smile crosses my lips, "… I'm not too sure anymore."

"-and you seriously think I'm going to give you this back after you've said that?" Romano exclaims, waving the in my direction. Behind the anger, he's becoming nervous.

"I'm not going to kill you."

"So you KILLED people?"

"To survive." My expression becomes a little dark, "I had to. The mobs of those people were attacking us, and me."

He relaxes a little, but remains untrusting towards me.

After a pause, I ask, "Can you tell me where I am?"

"Madrid. How the hell did you get here?"

"Plane. It crashed a few miles back."

"So you can't get back to your place?"

I rub my face of dust, increasingly close to collapsing. I'm dehydrated and starving.

"I don't think I want to."

"… you look like shit." He says again, exposing some concern. He lowers the gun, "I don't trust you, but if you don't try to kill me I'll take you to Spain's. It's near by."

"Spain's alive?"

Romano, who had turned to begin walking, stops and glancing back, "…why would he be dead?"

I shrug. Narrowing his gold-brown eyes at me, he continues walking. When I'm still stood where I am, he calls in annoyance, "Are you coming or not?"

I follow him. He leads me down a few alleyways, sometimes glancing back- as if to make sure I'm not sneaking up on him or anything. I simply keep silent with a dull expression as I look ahead, not wanting to make conversation. Unlike me, Romano doesn't like the silence.

"How bad is it where you were."

"My government's dead." I mutter matter-of-factly, "My own people killed them all."

"That's too bad." He replies wryly, "I'm surprised Russia didn't get to them first."

I tense and say nothing. He laughs at his own comment, then glances back when he realises I didn't join him. There's an awkward pause, "… you okay, burger-bastard?"

"I'm fine." I manage, staring at the ground. I want to forget what he said and just brush it off. I don't need questions being aimed at me right now. He appears to get that message; the rest of the journey is in silence. Soon we reach what I can only guess is Spain's house. Romano stops outside it, and points the gun at me again, "Move, and I'll blow your balls off."

I blink passively. He walks up to the door and knocks 5 times rapidly. I stay where I am like he ordered.

The sound of the door unlocking tells me they must have a codeword to get in. It must be dangerous around here, in that case. I'm lucky Romano was the one to attack me, although I would've much preferred to remain wandering the streets by myself. I've been used to be alone the last few weeks.

Romano sticks his head inside the door and calls in, "OI, SPAIN! No luck finding your cat but I found America."

The sound of two separate exclamations comes from somewhere in the house. The southern Italian gestures for me to approach the door, again at gunpoint, and I walk up the path. Spain and Italy soon appear into the hallway with wide eyes, staring at me in amazement.

"A-America? Is it really you?"

"Yeah." Unlike their joy, my tone of voice is lifeless, "It's good to see you."

Romano rolls his eyes and thumbs at me, " I found him wandering down the street, _singing to himself._"

"I knew you'd visit!" Italy chirps, squeezing passed Spain to get closer to me. I don't react when he suddenly yelps and backs up, hiding behind his brother, "B-Blood-! "

"He's not one of them." Romano assures, although he doesn't seem to trust his own words completely.

"Are you okay, mi amigo?" Spain asks with obvious concern, green eyes wide.

I shrug. I'm going to wear out my shoulders doing that.

"You're not having _this_ back until we're sure." The older Italian tilts the gun a little to emphasise, glaring at me. Italy gives me a scared look from behind him. I simply let my gaze fall to my feet.

"Por favour, Alfred-" I look back up to Spain at the use of my first name, "We need to sort you out. You look in bad shape-" He leads me inside, and takes me upstairs. Romano protests feebly from the door that I might kill him, and he only smiles stupidly back, "Don't be silly, Lovino!"

I stay silent. As I look at the normality of the house, I start to feel out of place. It's too normal.

"What happened to you?" The Spaniard asks. I don't acknowledge his question as I stare into one of the bedrooms, "… America?"

I look at him blankly. His expression grows with anxiety, "… you should take a shower. This way."

Spain takes me to the bathroom and gestures to the shower, leaving to find me some fresh clothes that'll fit. Alone again, I give the room a wary look, before half heartedly opening the shower door to turn it on.

Spain returns with a shirt and some pants, "Hopefully these will fit- they're too big for me, anyway- America?"

I look at him and give him a ghost of a smile, "Thanks…"

He places them on the tile side, then leaves to give me privacy.

…leaving the room quiet besides the gentle pattering of water.

For a brief moment I shut my eyes and rest my head against the shower glass, gazing in to look at the water falling. Steam begins to rise and fogs up the window. Weakly, I step away and shed myself of blood-stained clothes. Even my bomber jacket is patched with darker fabric from it. I let them fall in a crumpled heap before catching my reflection in the mirror. I gaze at myself passively. I'm paler, despite the sun; dark circles make me look almost like a ghost. My cropped blonde locks are in tangles, kept together by dirt, my cowlick not as prominent as before but limp. I'm almost a little alarmed at how many ribs I can count. I run my weak finger tips across them, frowning. How did I become so thin?

When I realise I'm trembling, I force myself to look away. I step into the hot, running water of the shower, and allow myself to relax my aching muscles. I rest my head against the cooler tile wall as the water runs down my back, gradually washing away the blood that had stained my skin through the clothes. I watch it circle the drain. I wonder how much of it is Russia's? Or Canada's…

An icy shiver travels through me at the thought. Suddenly I'm almost scared to let it go- it's the last remains of Canada that I have- disappearing…

I freeze when I see something move in the corner of my eye. Very slowly, I turn my head and stare through the misted glass of the shower- my eyes widening. On the other side, a man as tall as me stands, bare skin white, eyes purple, blood bright across his neck.

"_America, why didn't you save me?_"

"N-no, I-"

"_You're letting me go… you'll forget me._" Through the fogged up glass I see his expression twist into anger, "_How could you-_"

"I won't forget- I- I just need to be clean- I didn't mean to make you angry-"

"_Alfred, why…_"

"L-Leave me alone- I told you- I didn't realise-"

"_You let me down- I'm dead because of you-_"

"GO AWAY-"

"Alfred? Are you okay?"

I'm ripped out of my panic at Spain's voice in the doorway. I stare at him for a moment, then glance back fearfully at the glass. My reflection stares back at me, and I realise I had been talking to myself- what I had thought was Matthew was myself- blood still staining my neck. With blank, wide eyes, I rub the blood away as I look back to Spain.

"I-I'm okay…" I murmur, feeling numb again. He hesitates to question that, before coming into the room and sitting on the tile counter.

"Um…" I frown at him, feeling a little uncomfortable in the shower with him sat a metre away. He simply smiles reassuringly at me.

"I think you need some company, when you've been alone for so long."

I blink a few times before sighing miserably, too disheartened to begin washing beyond letting the water run over me. Spain notes this.

"You need to have a good wash, Alfred. Please- trust me, you'll feel better."

I shrug and do as he says, attempting to untangle my hair and wash it of dirt and God knows what else. The next time I glance to Spain, he's gazing thoughtfully at the opposite wall, looking anxious. I don't comment on it but feel his angst for a moment before looking back to the floor.

It had been a while since I had hallucinated, until just now. It scares me when I see them. Both of them. When I see Russia… that's when I'm most terrified. He haunts me at night- in my dreams, standing over me when I open my eyes, eyes full of blood thirst- all I see is that twisted grin, that look of manic fear- why had he suddenly changed into something so desperate, so guilty, just at the moment I was to meet my death along with my brother? What had changed him? Why had Russia chosen someone so innocent to die? Why…

For the first time in months, I feel an overwhelming wave of grief. Recently I had developed a state of emotional limbo, once I'd accepted I was alone. But being around other nations so suddenly- it's gotten to me. I realise now how much I have to hide. I doubt that I can keep it under the surface. Maybe I'm better off alone, like I was before. I don't want the others to find out. They can't. They'd turn away from me. They'd find out I'm a murderer. _I'm a murderer…_

"America?"

Spain has jumped off of the side and stands by the shower door. I hadn't realise I'd started crying. I try to hide my tears but my sobs are too strong, making me turn away from him. I don't glance back when the doors open and I'm gently brought out into a warm towel.

"It's okay…" The older nation comforts, wrapping the fabric around my shoulders. Every time a tear falls down my cheeks and rubs it away and gives me a reassuring smile, telling me it's alright.

"Spain… I couldn't save them. I couldn't save any of them." I whisper, voice cracked.

He meets my eye, looking saddened, "Sometimes you can't."

"But… it's my fault, I-"

"It's never your fault. Don't blame yourself. Be thankful you're still alive, mi amigo."

_2 nations are dead because of me. _

My head falls against his shoulder. He hugs me back.

"Are you seriously okay? What happened?"

"I can't say. I- he… he'll be angry if I do."

"Who'll be angry?"

I stare at him fearfully for a split second, before we're both interrupted by a startled Italian stood by the door.

"What the hell are you two doing?" Romano exclaims, red faced. It's enough to make Spain laugh, and he swats a hand towards him.

"Don't worry- go find Italy."

"No- seriously." The younger of the two eyes us suspiciously.

"I'm having a mental breakdown- fuck off." I manage to say in a dull tone. Romano opens his mouth to retort but can't argue with that, so he walks away mutter to himself.

Spain turns to me, "Sorry, he does that-"

I right myself, wrapping the towel around my waist, "It's okay."

"Are you…?"

"Yeah." I smile a little, "I feel a bit better."

He smiles back in relief, "That's good. You should get some rest."

I nod, and admit, "I'm ready to collapse."

Spain leads me to a bedroom with a single bed, "You can sleep here as long as you want, mi amigo. I won't let Romano disturb you."

I smile again, still not yet alive enough to laugh, and say my thanks before he leaves. I gaze tiredly at the room and fall onto the bed, gazing up at the ceiling. It's still light outside, so I shouldn't find that much trouble falling asleep this time. The encounter from just now has left me paranoid, but from previous experience, I won't see him for at least a few hours yet…

My eyes almost feel bruised- they can barely stay open and it aches to do so. The crying didn't help.

_I can't keep living like this. _I need to be there for those that are still alive. I need to make up for what I've done. _For Matthew, and-_

_-_and Ivan.

I need to be forgiven even by you.

I can protect everyone, and I'll make up to you, to all of you.

**I promise.**

**/**


	15. Chapter 14, France, Part 1

_**France, Part 1**_

**Another update guys! Time to open up France's side of the story.**

**Date- May 2010.**

**Currently: On search for surviving countries.**

**Continent: Europe **

**Survivors Found: ****Five.**

…

"Lithuania, this way!"

I hear England call urgently, and turn to see the group splitting up without saying a word to me. Maybe I didn't hear.

Next thing I know, Prussia is dragging me by the arm, "This way _dummkopf_, we're splitting up."

"Wh-why? Shouldn't we stay together?"

"Weren't you _listening? _We need to search the perimeter. This way-"

We've been searching for a few weeks now. I can't say I'm not glad we found Prussia along with the other survivors, but I have to say- he's been quite an earache since. He won't stop talking about how awesome he was when he saved the others. Although, Hungary especially seems to make it obvious that Prussia was the one who was saved. No one has said exactly what happened to them when the Russians broke through their defence, but none of them want to. It must have been a terrible defeat.

So as I'm being led down a small street, with narrow terraced houses on both sides, feeling claustrophobic . I can't see anyone around, just like everywhere we go. Just abandoned houses. We used to try to break in to boarded ones to look for survivors in the previous countries we travelled through, but after only discovering corpses and empty homes, we no longer had the hope. It's terrible… the destruction in western Europe is worse than I had imagined.

It's a mystery where everyone went. Prussia told me that once they escaped the invasion, the Russian army raided through the other end of Poland, swooping through all countries on their way, until- of course- the invasion reached myself. After that, it seems they may have gone to Africa… we can only wonder- with no strength to chase the enemy in their rampage, they quickly disappeared out of sight.

Prussia also told me that when the Germanic countries escaped from Warsaw, Germany stayed behind to fend them off on his own. God help him- wherever he ended up… there's no trace of where he went or what happened to him. Switzerland is also missing from the original group. So many others are questionable… too many others.

We're currently in Kiev, Ukraine's capital. I feel anxious to be so close to the Russian border, but England refused to let that get in the way of finding survivors. He's still so highly strung on the idea. I just don't have the strength anymore.

We turn into an alley. I gaze at Prussia, who's eyes are a calm red. He seems quite at peace just walking in silence for once, and doesn't share my feelings of anxiety. I ask in a stressed tone, "I have a bad feeling…"

"You always have a bad feelin' nowadays. What's up with you? _Scared? _"

I frown at him, showing distaste, "I am _not_, just… "

For a moment he rolls his eyes. Then, as we continue to walk, he scowls at the icey path and mutters, "If you're worrying about Ukraine- don't."

I sigh, disheartened, "… what if we find her… I don't want to know what's happened to her after such a terrible invasion. It must have gone straight through her country- if it's so damaged here."

He glowers at me- making me stiffen, "Francis- shut up. We'll find her."

I say no more, and we travel in silence.

With an atmosphere so tense- I'm not surprised I nearly have a heart attack when my walkie-talkie goes off all of a sudden. I curse in French as I flinch, grabbing it.

"_YES YES- what do you want?_" I yell into it, flustered.

"There was no need for that, wanker." England voice growls from the device venomously, "- do you see anything?"

"… _non, _not yet."

"Nothing here either. This city is completely abandoned. Perhaps the residents here were taken hostage?"

I rub my forehead, feeling a headache setting in between my eyes, "Who knows."

"Romania, Liechtenstein and Hungary are heading west. We are all meeting on the other side in a few hours."

"A few _hours? _Do we have to spend so long here- it's clear there's no one a-"

"We're not cutting corners, _Frog. _Stop complaining."

I fume in the form of a long pause, glaring at the walkie-talkie in the hopes that that limey will feel it on the other end. Once my anger has subsided, I hum and ask, "Do you think we'll find her?"

I can almost sense England's annoyance before he speaks, "I don't know. Stop asking me that."

"Fine, fine… you go on with your little search…" I mutter, letting go of the button to speak and putting it back in my coat pocket.

Prussia makes an irritated noise, hands behind his head, "Man, that tea-drinker sure has a rod up his backside, eh?"

I manage a soft chuckle, agreeing.

We reach another main road- one that looks worse than the one before. The damage is getting more extreme as we walk through the city.

"Wow- what a dump."

I bite onto the edge of my handkerchief in stress- I've been using it to try and calm my nerves recently, "_Mon dieu- how can you say that?_"

Once again, I jump when the walkie-talkie goes off for the second time. It's Hungary, "- you idiots doing your job?"

Prussia takes the device from my hand and says into it, "Ja ja, of course we are. We're doing an _awesome _job. I bet you're jus' fucking around with Romania."

"We're a quarter of the way there, _actually._" She says indignantly, "But we haven't found anyone."

"Us neither. Maybe everyone's dead, heh…"

"_Tais-toi!_" I call, nearly tearing off the corner of the fabric in my hand as I grind my teeth at it, going a few shades whiter in face colour.

"How's England doing?" Hungary asks, dismissing both our voices as we bicker.

"Nothing." The albino replies, frowning a little.

"Well- wait. I… I think we've found a group." She pauses for a long time. We stop walking, catching each others' eye with matching anticipation. Then she says, "Th-they're- they're running at us- LIECTENSTEIN- RUN! THEY'RE-"

The line cuts off. Prussia's face falls into one of fear, eyes wide.

"Sheibe-" He curses, bursting into a sprint into the alley we just came from.

"W-wait-!" I yell, trying to catch up. I nearly slip on the icy ground beneath me and re-balance myself, unable to run as fast.

He slows down only for a moment to grab me by the wrist- "COME ON! RUN FASTER-"

When we reach the place we started from, he leads me the way Hungary went, ignoring my deteriorating strength. I gasp for breath harshly as we continue to run. My lungs hurt- I can't-

"G-Gilbert- I can't run- please-" I try to shout, throat dry.

In the distance, I can hear the sound of gunshots. The bangs echo in the cold air of the empty street, making my heart stop.

Then Prussia lets go of my hand.

"HUNGARY!"

I trip on the curb as he runs ahead, grazing the palms of my hands, my face following to slam into the ground. Unable to get up, I manage to lift my head to see Prussia- and the rest of them- further down the street.

The world around my darkens as I panic, trying to get up- I need to-

A cold feeling clutches onto me before I can resist it.

Then… everything… went….

…_black…_

…_._

"_**France- are you alright? WAKE UP…!**_

_**-FRANCE!"**_


	16. Chapter 15, Germany, Part 2

_**Hey guys! Another update~ **_

_**Thanks to new followers and comments- I really appreciate it. I'm also accepting requests to any gaps I've left in the plot that you'd like me to fill to give you a deeper understanding of what is going on with different countries. Here we find out what became of Germany, in the second part of his story. Enjoy…**_

_**Germany, Part 2**_

"_Nothing?"_

"_Not so far. But we'll find them Ludwig."_

"_It's been months." _I face him with a grim expression. He mirrors my thoughts with a sigh.

"They fled west. They're most likely alright."

I gaze out to the streets below. Empty. It has been since the invasion broke through my country after our failure in Warsaw. I could never forgive myself for letting the others down. I do not know what has become of them. It's July, and we've heard nothing.

_Nothing…_

It seems every day that we wait, the likelihood of finding the other nations decreases. I thought, if I searched as far as Paris, I'd at least find France and England, but I found Switzerland instead. I look over to him as he sits in an armchair by the phone, frowning intently at it. I'm sure he's most concerned of his younger sister, Liechtenstein. I'm concerned too. But my worries also lie with so many others- the nations I let down. Hungary, Austria, Prussia… and I can only hope despite the enemy we're up against… that… Italy is alright.

_He should be in Madrid, safe._

But I can't be sure. He could be in danger, and I can't do anything this time. Not this war. I'm not strong enough. _Not this time…_

"We must keep searching." Switzerland urges, ripping his eyes away from the phone, "We can't give up now."

I nod slowly, yet I am anything but confident that we will find anyone, "Very well. We should send a distress call."

On the other side of the room lies the radio transmitter. We haven't yet used it, and it could bring a spark of hope to our search. But surely…

Once we've set it to transmit a message to a long enough radius from here, I clear my throat to speak into the microphone. My throat dry, I manage to say, "This is Germany and Switzerland, calling from Berlin. We have food, artillery and shelter. Does anyone read?"

We wait. There is no reply.

"I repeat. This is Germany and Switzerland in central Berlin. Is anyone there?"

_Silence. _Like the world is asleep. A continent- empty.

My eyes widen when a signal buzzes through, at first a buzz of white noise. Then a voice breaks through, becoming audible.

"H-Hello?" I shout, losing my calm tone, "Who is this!"

"This is Spain, I hear ya loud and clear mi amigo."

My shoulders sag visibly as I relax, letting out a small sigh of relief.

"Everything's holding up in Madrid. The invasion didn't do too much damage."

"Th-the invasion reached as far as you?"

"Ci- but we're alright."

Switzerland takes over the speaking, and I step back, running a hand through my hair to pull back some stray strands that had fallen in front of my eyes.

The shorter nation asks with a stern tone, "This is Switzerland. Who is with you?"

"Italy, Romano and America."

_America?_

My surprised is voiced as Switzerland asks, "America is with you? Does he have information on the damage in any other continent?"

There's a long pause. Then Spain's voice is replaced with a duller one, "Damage in North America is beyond repair."

"America- do you have any supplies."

"No. It's just me." There's almost a sort of dry humour to the young countries voice, "But I'm here to help."

"That's good to hear. The four of you should move to us where we can plan fully how to regain some defence. We can, with enough nations behind us, fight back. Have you any information on the location of the others?"

"To be honest, we hoped you would." Spain has returned to speaking, "We only know that England and France began a search deeper into eastern Europe back in April. We haven't heard from them since."

"Very well." Before Switzerland can ask any more demanding questions, Italy's voice cuts in loudly, "Germany! Germany- are you there?"

I sigh once more, both in exasperation and good nature. The nation beside me allows me to replace him by the transmitter, and I speak, "Italy, this is meant to be a serious discussion. You do know that, don't you?"

He doesn't catch my scolding and instead replies happily, "Germany- I'm so happy you're okay! I knew you would be!"

"I-I'm happy to hear you're fine too." I falter, clearing my throat as my cheeks turn a little rosy. Then I change the subject, "You should travel to where we are. You'll be safe here."

"America is with us- isn't that cool? He says he's going to help us in Europe-"

"Uh- good… good." I notice Switzerland's impatience as Italy continues to attempt a conversation.

"It's a little scary here though…" He admits, voice lowering.

"As long as you're alright, Italy."

"I'm fine!" Italy chirps.

I smile weakly. Only Switzerland sees it.

"Good… have a safe journey. Listen to what Spain says. Don't do anything reckless!"

"I won't~ oh, America wants a turn again now! Bye Germany, I miss you!"

I can only say my reply in thought, as I lose my voice due to his care-free words. _I miss you too._

America takes over to discuss details with further plans. Switzerland decides to lead whilst I go back to gazing out the window. I feel a spark of hope flicker in my chest. 4 nations have been contacted. A small weight has been lifted off of my shoulders now that I know Italy is still safe. It was a good decision to send him away from the battle front. He might have ended up hurt if he had joined us in Warsaw.

Now we have to concentrate on retrieving the other nations from the war front. I feel now that there is hope.

_If only small, I know that there is hope in this war. I may not be strong enough to defend everyone- but I can at least protect the ones closest to me. _

I have always promised to protect you. No war will change that- no matter which side we end on.

_We will fight back._

_. . . . . . . . / . . . . . . . . . . _

_**What is true of the individual will be tomorrow true of the whole nation, if individuals will but refuse to lose heart and hope.**_


	17. Chapter 16, England, Part 4

ENGLAND PART 2

**Hey guys! I'm so sorry I haven't updated for so long, but things have been busy recently… but here I am, updating again for you all! *brick to head***

**Anyway, here's England's part 4. I know he's ahead of everyone else in parts but different countries are more important at different times in the plot. **

**Enjoy!**

_Location: Vilnius, Lithuania_

_Date: April 2010_

_Survivors found: None_

"France, are you alright?"

I frown at his pale complexion. He smiles meekly back, "I'm fine."

"No you're not, rest for a while."

He half collapses onto the nearest street bench that we past. I glance either way, before joining him with an exasperated sigh.

"I can't believe we got as far as Vilnius without any trouble."

"Oui… quite unbelievable."

I study him, frown, and look up to where he's gazing. The clouds above us are heavy and dark; it could rain at any moment. That's the last thing we need- without a plan for proper shelter, we could have trouble coping with bad weather.

I hum thoughtfully, starting to dislike the strained silence, "Maybe we'll find him here."

"Who, Lithuania?" France asks, strangely passive.

"Yes, I'm sure he's here- this is his capital after all."

He shakes his head, "I fear we won't, England. Belgium wasn't at her's."

My eyes grow soft as I accept his point. It's true. We failed to find Belgium, the Netherlands… and it's painful knowing the countries that have already long passed away… "No, I guess not…"

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea of yours." France murmurs, rubbing his tired eyes. His strength is deteriorating- I can almost see it draining away gradually, the further we search, the longer we walk.

I can't even find the irritation to disagree with him anymore, and neither can he find the humour to try and irritate me. Sometimes he blacks out for hours at a time because he refuses to stop and rest. The first time it happened I panicked- thinking he may have fallen into a critical condition. But still he pushed forward… that is until now.

"We can't give up now."

The older nation chuckles dully, looking bitterly down the street, "It's no use. The Reds already passed through here. We won't find anyone… we're too late."

A flare of anger brings me to grab him by the collar of his shirt, gritting my teeth, "You didn't come this far to throw in the towel! Pull yourself together! "

His weight is heavy, like he doesn't have the strength to even sit up by himself, "Perhaps… this old man has met his time, my friend."

"Don't say that-" My stomach knots with worry as his eyes drift shut. I shake him, "I didn't drag your arse all the way from Paris to Vilnius for you to do this- come on-"

When he doesn't reply I shake him more briskly, "FRANCE!"

He's fallen unconscious again. I curse in frustration, dropping him so he falls limply against the bench.

I run a hand through my hair and tug at it, closing my eyes. _Maybe we should give up. This is hopeless…_ if we go on for much longer, France may never wake up the next time he black out. I would never forgive him if he gave up so soon, but could I forgive myself if I let him get any worse?

I'm brought out of my thoughts by the sound of someone calling. I lift my head from the ground, alert, as I look in the direction of the voice. My eyes widen when I see someone running towards us. The man in the distance looks injured- yet he's sprinting. Is he an enemy? I stand my ground firmly, preparing myself for an attack. They call again- and that's when I realise it's-

"Lithuania?"

"England! Thank goodness-" He reaches me, almost losing his balance as he skids to a halt beside me.

"You're a sight for sore eyes." I gaze at his injury, "- you're hurt-"

What looks like a stab wound is clearly visible over his right shoulder, "Oh, this? I… managed to get away with a knife wound."

"Who did this?" I demand, concerned for the amount of blood lost.

"Russia did. He tried to kill me."

Feeling ill, I can't find the words to say. He survived meeting Russia?

Lithuania notices France at my side, his eyes wide, "Is he alright?"

I shake my head, "We've been searching for survivors. You're the first, I'm afraid."

"You came this far without finding anyone?" He asks, shocked.

I look back to France, "He's ready to give up… but he passed out before you turned up. It's good to see you're mostly well, Lithuania."

He nods, although he looks visibly numb with shock. After a long silence, he asks, "What happens now?"

I rub my temple, wondering myself, "I suppose we keep moving."

"I have transport if you need it. I didn't know where to go myself so I just stayed here. Good thing I did or I may never have found you, England."

"That's quite alright… "

We briefly discuss a plan of action before lifting France enough to carry him to Lithuania's car.

I have a small tug of hope that we may find others, if we've found Lithuania- who's so close to where the attack started. There must be others.

_Because if they're aren't, then where are they all?_


	18. Chapter 17, Italy, Part 3

**Italy Part 3**

**Another update! I hope to make my updates more even from now on after a rough patch recently. I was a little unhappy with how the last chapter ended as my original rough was a lot longer- but I'm sure the content I missed out (which was really only their views on the current situation) can be added in later on. So now for a rather short part from Italy. Enjoy! (I promise to try and make them longer too XD)**

**~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~**

"_Do we have enough supplies?_"

"Ci, all in the car mi amigo."

America nods thoughtfully, gazing at our four-wheel drive bmw-x5, a car I'm familiar with Spain having a soft spot for, that has been chosen for our long journey to Berlin.

"Water?"

"All set."

"How much ammunition do we have?"

"Well… we only have a shotgun so we have plenty of shells for that aside. And enough for your gun too."

"Alright, I think we're good to go."

I watch as the two taller nations pack the last of the boxes in the car. Romano stands beside me with a very grim expression. He doesn't want to leave Madrid- I can tell.

I frown at him, attempting a comforting hug, "Don't worry Lovino- we'll be okay with Spain and America with us!"

"I don't want to go to Berlin-" My brother refuses to let me get close; he's in a very short temper.

"You two ready to go?" Spain asks, after finishing his route plan with America.

I salute eagerly, "Yes sir! Ready to go!"

"Lovino?"

He shakes his head stubbornly. With a sympathetic gaze, Spain walks up and attempts to comfort him like I had.

"Come on… we'll be safer in Berlin! They said it was safe, and you'll be able to see the other nations again!"

"I don't see why we have to move- we're fine here. Why are we moving CLOSER to the Russians?"

"Just trust me." Spain places his hands on both of Romano's shoulders, looking serious now, "Ci? We're being told to move, so we have to move."

My brother's previously sour expression melts into a stressed and uncertain one as his eyes well up with tears, "But I don't want to you bastard-"

"Please Lovino?" I chip in, holding one of his hands with both of mine, "We'll see Germany and maybe even Hungary and Austria and-"

"I don't care about them!" He snaps, snatching his hand away. I shrink back, hurt. America decides to interfere with a strict tone, making me uncomfortable, "There's no time to be going against orders. We've been told to move to Berlin. If you aren't coming, then you're staying here."

Romano scowls at the younger nation, "Why should I listen to _you_? I know a hell lot more about what is right and what isn't, you yankee bastard- I've lived through a lot more history to know heading _towards_ the enemy is a death wish- "

"-I might not have lived as long as you," America sounds tired when I thought he'd be angry, "But the other countries need our help, and I'd be damned if I stayed put and watched them suffer any more than what's happened already. Remember what your _duties _are."

A horribly tense silence falls over the four of us. I don't like the acidity of my brother's eyes as he glares at the taller nation, not backing down. Neither break the eye contact; they're both stubborn. I don't say a word. Spain tries to keep the peace.

"Mi amigos, no fighting, okay? This isn't the time to be arguing…"

"Tell your so called friend that." Romano mutters, even more hateful towards the blonde.

"A-America IS our friend!" I object, "Don't say that Lovi-"

"I'll say what I like. I'm going- but only because I don't want to leave my brother and my friend with a stupid American…"

America doesn't retort back. He doesn't say anything at all. He just steps into the front of the car.

I join hastily, getting in the back. Spain sits in the passenger seat beside America, and Romano joins me sulkily. Spain turns around, "Everyone ready?"

"Si, let's go!" I chirp, quite happy.

"All set."

"Hmph… I guess."

Spain smiles, "Good- let's go."

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/


	19. Chapter 18, Sealand, Part 2

**Sealand, Part 2**

**This part is insanely short, and I apologise for my lack of effort to make it any longer *brick-to-face***

**Anyway, I'd like to remind those reading that I update irregularly, so some chapters may have been brushed over when another update happens soon after. Before the last chapter, I made another update on England… and wouldn't he be pissed off if you ignored him! Just giving you a heads up! I will be updating another chapter along with this one, but for… *shifty look* … certain reasons, I didn't want to put them together.**

**So, enjoy!**

_**Sealand, January 2010.**_

**~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

"_Hello? Anyone?!_"

I call out into the seemingly empty warehouse at the top of my lungs. I'm starting to get a sore throat from shouting so much, but I'm too desperate to rest my voice.

I won't… not until I've found them.

Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Norway, Iceland… where are they?

It's been a month. I haven't eaten in days but I'm not hungry. I lost my hat and gloves running but I'm not cold… I'm not cold…

I shiver involuntarily against the winter breeze, finding a warm refuge in the warehouse before me; my hands… I can't feel them anymore.

_I want to go home._

I'm so scared. I don't know what has happened to them. All I can think about is what Russia said. But- Latvia can't be dead. He _can't _be.

…_and what if he is? What if Russia really did kill Latvia and Estonia?_

It's impossible to imagine.

-and it could never happen, right? Why would Russia do that? Why would he kill anyone, for that matter! Why would this happen…

_I'm so cold…_

But I must find the others. Sweden, Finland…

I fall to the dusty floor, one just as icy cold as the snow outside. It's dark in here, and empty. For a moment I'm afraid of it, but a sort of dullness makes me weaken. I'm tired. I'm hungry… I can't go on. All I want is to be back home, to see the Nordics again… and Latvia.

_Where are you?_

**~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

_**Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.**_


	20. The day I woke up

_**The day I woke up.**_

_What is the worst sight that you have seen?_

…_what is the worst sound that you have heard?_

…_and… what is the worst thing that you have ever done?_

_The sound of screaming- endless. Unrecognisable. Ringing in my head._

_They raise their voices- so fearful- torturous howling that I can't escape from._

I feel so cold.

_Eyes, round with terror, begging for mercy- thousands of eyes. The dead, watching me._

Where am I?

_The sight of blood. So much blood._

What happened?

_I don't remember._

I open my eyes. The light burns my sockets, and I squint. _Is this… heaven?_

Heaven wouldn't be cold.

_Hell?_

But I see no horrors before me. Only white light.

_Can I move?_

I raise my hand. A pale, but otherwise normal hand. I flex my fingers. I can move.

_Where am I?_

I sit up. My body feels stiff. I wince as my muscles ache and twinge. I notice the cold surface beneath me is metal- it's surprisingly warm. Or am I just cold? I won't shiver… I feel odd.

I try to call out, but my voice catches. The first word that springs to mind- the first name that is mustered from my memory…

I say it, with a horrible sense of uncertainty.

"… _**America?"**_


	21. Chapter 20- France, Part 2

**France, Part 2**

**The last chapter will be explained in time, everyone- but for now I'll torture you with suspense! So here's France Part 2, continued from the end of Part 1... **

**Right now I'm on holiday so I apologise if it's a little later than before. I'm not good with this frequent updating am I? *sweatdrops***

**On another note, I used British English for France's part, so the first floor is the 'ground floor' and the second floor is the 'first floor', for a heads up to those who might get confused.**

**Anyway, on with the story~ **

**EDIT: I've only just realised this wasn't finished! So I've finally corrected it- sorry for the ridiculously long delay everyone! = _="**

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~**

"_HUNGARY!"_

_Gasping for breath, I stumble- fall, hitting the concrete. Unable to get up, I start to feel my sight slip. I can't get up- but I can't give up- I can't-_

Everything went black.

…

"_No- no no no- please- wake up- WAKE UP!_"

I open my eyes, staring up at an over cast, grey sky. I can hear crying.

I had dreamt of Matthew. He was calling me. Telling me to wake up. I start, going to call out for him, but realise he isn't anywhere to be seen-

"Elizabeta… please…."

I stare ahead. Surrounded by nations, is Prussia. He's sat over someone. I try to get up, but a hand falls onto my shoulder. I glance up. England's face is heavy with grief.

"E-England…?"

He watches the group, crouched at my side, and doesn't meet my questioning stare. What he says makes my blood run cold.

"Hungary and Austria are dead."

I look back at Prussia. In his arms lies Hungary, her long brown hair covering her face. Austria is lying just beside them. The stone around them is crimson with blood.

I blacked out… what happened? Everyone's been fighting; many if the group have wounds. England has a cut across his cheek.

"How…" I manage to murmur, _no more… too many have died. This is too much… _Not Hungary and Austria, please… to have such long-time companions pass away-

"Their group got attacked. Austria had been just ahead of them but had been followed by the enemy, so when Hungary called to him… h-he tried to save her…" His voice strains as he becomes upset.

If I hadn't passed out, would this have happened? I don't know what to say. The air of the street is thick with sorrow, in an awful moment of silence. I watch as Prussia lays Hungary down next to Austria gently, slowly, before standing up.

"I'll kill 'em. I'll kill every single one of 'em until there's no one left."

"Gilbert…" I call. His gaze meet mine. He tries to hide his tears and roughly wipes them away, scowling. His red eyes are brimmed with a rare pain I haven't seen him expose for a long, long time. He doesn't answer me. No one speaks.

Then England stands up. I look up at him. The blood drains away from my face as I notice the look of heavy acceptance in his expression. Like he's made up his mind on something-

"I can bring them back."

My eyes widen. No, he couldn't mean that-

"What?" Prussia stares at him, his scowl weakening into hope.

England raises his voice, sounding shaken but sure, "I can bring them back."

Before anyone can say anything, he steps forward. Everyone steps out of the way as he stands by their feet. He raises his hand up to his mouth and bites hard on his thumb, drawing blood.

_No- he can't-_

He begins chanting under his breath with his eyes closed, using his own blood to draw a symbol on the ground in front of him.

I'm paralysed- too panicked to move. A glow begins to build from the ground as is chanting increases in speed and volume, his hands outstretches towards them. A wind picks up around him until the other nations have to step back from the force, causing the circle to stagger back.

If he does this- he'll-

"ARTHUR- STOP!"

I stagger to my feet as I lurch forward, diving towards him. He turns for a split second with wide eyes- irises shining like gold- piercing me. I knock him out of the circle of light as he exclaims. We both fall to the concrete, my weight knocking the breath out of him. As soon as I hit the ground a wave of energy explodes within me- and I cry out. My skin is _burning-_

"_Y-YOU IDIOT!" _England hollers, his face full of horror and worry as he stares up at me. His eyes aren't gold anymore, but they widen when they meet mine. For a moment my heart stops- time slows only for a second-

A sharp pain in my chest makes me keel over, rolling off of England as I exclaim again. _Why dies this hurt- what is happening to me-_

I fall onto my back, staring once more up at the sky. But everything is tinted with red-

England fall to my side, breathing shallow with panic as he looms over me. He looks terrified and furious, "Why did you get in the way?! You- you-"

"_I… didn't want you…_" I try to produce words, but the pain in my chest makes it hard to breath.

A surprised gasp makes England look up.

"HUNGARY! AUSTRIA!"

I slowly move my head to follow his line of sight. Hungary and Austria have sat up- and they're alive.

The spell worked.

Prussia is close to tears as he and Hungary stare at each other.

"E-Elizabetta-?" He manages.

Hungary frowns, "What happened?"

He tenses, as if realising how upset he looks, and puts on a brave face, "You died- but whatever, cause you're alive now-"

"Wh- WHAT?" She exclaims, eyes wide. She glances to Austria as he sits up, holding his head.

"Roderich- where…?" Hungary seems to have forgotten that he appeared to save her.

I smile at them weakly. England recovers from the revival of the two to hit me on the chest, already crying from looking at them.

"You dolt- you bloody- stupid-" I can't bring myself to stop him. I'm just glad the others are alive.

Something begins to burn like a rash on my wrist. I wince and raise my arm to look at it, sitting up.

On the inside of my wrist…

They are 8 symbols.

"England… what are…?"

His skin is ghostly white ,

"England?"

"You got in my way."

I stare at him. His anxiety is making my nervous.

"What are these?"

He snorts bitterly, looking away from me, "It's a curse. Each symbol must represent some sort of debt. I suppose it represents each injury-"

I stare at the symbols. Each one is different. I can't decipher exactly what each one means.. But only two of them are glowing gold brightly- the others are glowing at different levels. One of them in particular is very dim-

"I don't understand…" I mumble, frowning at it. Is this some sort of warning to which pains are the worst?

Suddenly another wave of pain sends a shock through me- colder than before. Cringing, I double over and curse, my head reeling. Another shock brings images to my head- and sounds- why- _the sound of screaming- endless. Unrecognisable. Ringing in my head._

_They raise their voices- so fearful- torturous howling that I can't escape from-_

I feel so cold.

_Eyes, round with terror, begging for mercy- thousands of eyes. The dead, watching me-_

Then… a small voice, calling someone's name. I repeat it, calling in unision-

…

"_**America!"**_

My eyes snap open as I lurch to sit up, reaching out-

The room has changed.

Gasping for breath, I stare around. Very quickly I feel eyes on me and glance to my direct right. Beside my bed, terrified, brown eyes meet mine, as round as saucers.

For a moment I just stare at them. The person they belong to yells out in panic, "GERMANY! GERMANY-!"

_Germany…?_

My eyes widen as I realise I'm in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. Memories of being on the concrete in an empty street… _Hungary and Austria… and England- the spell- the group- _Where have they all gone?

I look back at my panicked company as he runs out of the room. Only then do I recognise Italy and call out to him, "I-Italy- wait-!"

He's already gone, but nearly as soon as I called Germany came back with him in tow. Behind them, England, Hungary and Prussia. _Thank God… _

Once they move into the room, they just watch me. None of them seem to know how to speak. So I attempt my first of many questions.

""…where am I?"

Germany clears his throat, "In my home in Berlin."

"Berlin? But what happened- I was with the group…"

"You kinda… fell asleep?" Prussia says, laughing. I sense an underlying relief in his tone and smile at him, "But you're FINALLY awake, dummkopf."

"We thought you'd never wake up…" Germany admits, scratching the back of his neck with an exasperated expression.

I trail off, "How long was I asleep for?"

"Long enough." Hungary murmurs, moving to where Italy had been, in the seat beside my bed.

I stare at Hungary. Her eyes…

"Hungary… your-"

"Ah, yes. I think we should discuss this over lunch, don't you?" She interrupts, almost anxious. I frown.

"Can you stand, France?" Germany inquires. I gaze at my legs, stretching them. They're numb, and weak, but I'm eager to hear what happened.

I try to get up, but almost collapse as soon as I put weight on them. I sigh stressfully.

"_Mon dieu_- this is impossible-!"

Prussia walks over to help me stand, and comments, "You sure've gotten lighter, Francis."

"Well, he was in a coma for months…_" _Hungary hums, although a little uneasily. _Months? _

"Wh-what day is it?" I ask, as Prussia supports me through the bedroom and into the corridor. I blink at the balcony opposite me. Standing by myself, I lean against the dark wooden railing down to the floor below. What looks like a large, mahogany meeting table is in the middle of the large hall. Beyond it, to my left, is a twin staircase, one curving down on either side to the far north of the room, opposite the main doors on the opposite side, to the south. I appear to be in the west corridor of the first floor. The balcony surrounds the entire hall below, except for the main doors; the balcony hangs over the south of the room and stretches to the far north of the room where the stairs meet it. It's an impressive and rich design. Germany has good taste… however, I would've liked to have seen more decoration, although the interior design is to my favour. On my side of the first floor, there are rows of rooms. The bedroom I came out of is second along, with three rooms beyond it. Where the balcony ends, and the solid wall begins heading to the end of the corridor, there's another door. Are these all bedrooms? I can hear that the house is full of atmosphere; like there are many people occupying the building. Are the others here too?

My question has yet to be answered, so I turn around and frown at the 5 nations behind me. Prussia has joined me at the balcony, and he seems the most comfortable to talk about it.

"August 15th."

"I was asleep for 3 months?"

"Ja- and a pain in the ass to take care of."

"Liechtenstein did a good job tending to you in the medical room. It was only once you showed the first signs of recovery that we moved you to your room." Germany informs, nodding to himself.

I hum, a little overwhelmed by all the information.

Italy peers around him and smiles at me happily, having calmed down from earlier, "Germany was worried about you. Everyone was! I'm happy you're awake big brother France~"

Germany starts, cheeks heating up a little in stifled embarrassment. I chuckle warmly.

"I'm happy too…" I move my gaze to England for the first time and he turns away from me, scowling.

"Well I'm not. You should have stayed asleep after such a foolish decision…" He mutters, crossing his arms. I take the insult lightly, and snort.

"It was your fault from the beginning- you couldn't have handled this alone."

"You're not normally the one to help me on your own accord. I'm sure you just wanted the fame and attention of being the bloody hero."

"We both know that's not my job…" I trail off, realising something, "Ah… is… America here?"

England tenses, uncomfortable all of a sudden. Hungary hesitates to speak with the same anxiety. I frown.

"He's… alright, isn't he?"

"America is here, yes. He came with Spain, Romano and Italy from Madrid before you all arrived later on." Germany says, eyeing Hungary and England with an expression I can't decipher. Has something happened? I haven't been told if he's alright-

I need to see him. My dream has left me with this terrible feeling…

I begin walking down the corridor with my hand on the railing, following it around to the stairs on the west side. The rich, wine red carpet follows from the first floor down the deep wooden staircases until it ends at the bottom. I hear Germany following behind as I manage to make my way around the wall on the west side, looking around. The main doors are on the south wall, whilst there are two smaller doors on each end of the east and west walls. My company nods to the door on the right- being west, "The infirmary and medical room is through there. You should see Liechtenstein if you have any problems managing. Are you alright to walk?" He asks again, looking wary of my weak state.

I sigh, muttering, "I'm fine…"

I glance to the other side of the room to the door on the east wall, opposite us.

"Through there is the kitchen, dining room and sitting room."

I make my way over to it, opening the door with clammy hands. I feel nauseous. I'm breaking out into a cold sweat forcing myself to walk but I need to see everyone. I can't shake this horrible feeling- like I'm forgetting something. I can't quite remember what I had seen now. All I can think about is that voice- calling for him.

For America.

I need to see him. He might have answers.

Once I'm in the corridor, I stumble to the first door on the right wall. There are only paintings along the wall on the left, as the row of rooms trail down on the right. The first door leads me to the kitchen. I soon recognise the back of Spain as he cooks something. My presence isn't noticed until I step into the room. The dining room is attached to the kitchen to make an open, cosy space- the dining table as large as the one for meetings in the main hall. All of the interior is a warm, deep wood. When I walk through the room to the dining room, Spain glances back, jumps at my appearance, and causes some of the sauce in the pan to spill onto the hob.

"F-France!" He exclaims in pleasant surprise, smiling, "Mi amigo you're awake-"

I smile back at him, albeit weakly, "Bonjour, Antonio…"

"You don't look to well. Are you hungry? I'm making Paella for us all-"

I rub my head, "I'm not sure… I feel too dazed to tell."

"Alright. Does Germany know you're walking around?"

I look behind me as said nation steps into the room, "As long as you can handle it, I'm fine with you being on your feet."

I nod at him. Spain also shows his respect before turning back to the food he's making. It smells delicious…

The first signs of hunger make me somewhat more nauseous, and I find I need to sit down more than before. Germany notices, "You should sit down at the table, France."

I do as I'm told gratefully. The chairs are comfortable against my aching limbs; I notice for the first time that I've been trembling.

"Where is everyone?"

"Most of them are in the sitting room. Austria has been playing the piano."

I listen out. Just as Germany had said, I can hear the sound of a piano melody through the wall at the end of the dining room. But I can also pick up footsteps coming this way down the corridor…

I watch as more nations step into the room, some through kitchen door, some through the dining room door nearer to me. Italy, followed by Romano, enter first. Italy points to me.

"See, I told you big brother France was awake-" He chirps, pleased to have proved this fact to his older half, who scowls at me.

"Oh great, now the house is going to stink of garlic and cheese. Well done for waking him, you idiot."

Italy complains, flustered, "E-eh~? It wasn't my fault! I was only watching him for a second-"

"It's nice to see you two again…" I cut in, exasperated but amused, "I see you're both well."

"You look like shit." Romano comments, crossing his arms. I sigh.

Before I can say anymore, Austria enters beside Hungary. It's rather surreal seeing them look so calm and collected now, after my last memory of them. Austria looks over me with a passive but respecting smile. Hungary also smiles warmly. They join us at the table.

"Romano, do stop pestering France…"

I glance behind me, to where England is standing by the window. I don't know how long he's been there, but I scowl and look away, ignoring his helpful scolding.

He doesn't seem to care or notice.

I gaze instead at the nations already around me, waiting for dinner. Italy and Romano have began talking to themselves excitedly, as they do, whilst Austria is discussing things on a more serious level with Germany. Hungary is watching me with mild fascination. I blink back. Her eyes are almost paralysing to look at… I again feel the need to ask.

"Hungary, I've noticed your eyes-" I murmur, slightly unsettled.

"It shows the effects of the spell. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?"

_Myself…? _Do I have it too ? I bring a hand to one of my eyes self-consciously, frowning questioningly at Hungary. She smiles.

"You might be surprised when you look. Why don't you go see in the hallway? There's one further down towards the sitting room."

I get out of my seat, nod, and leave the room; I walk past Lithuania as I step into the hallway, glancing to the left to catch Romania heading into the dining room. Just as Hungary had said, a mirror is hung on the right wall between the dining room and sitting room doors. I walk over to it. I hesitate just before I see a glimpse of my reflection, almost nervous of looking into my own eyes.

I decide to shut my eyes to help myself, placing a hand on the mirror in front of me. I take a deep breath in… and out.

I face myself and open my eyes. Almost immediately my breath catches in my throat. I once again bring a hand up, this time to my left eye. My right is it's usual sky blue, wide and shocked. My left…

It's… _gold._

The outside of Hungary's irises are gold, like an outer rim. But my entire left eye's iris has gone from blue to gold. _Why only my left? _Will I always have this so long as I have the curse?

Austria had it too…

It almost hurts to look at it too long.

I start when I feel a presence in the hallway. I glance towards the sitting room door.

"A-America…!"

He looks back blankly. But he doesn't say anything.

"I was worried about you-" I stutter, realising I've started trembling again. He smiles a little- a tug at the corner of his mouth. It's not his smile. It's almost like he's stolen that face from a heartless man. It's cold- false. It's enough to make me feel sick.

"Are you alright?" I walk forward, forgetting my weak legs. Losing my balance, I fall into him. He catches me, again only seeming passively surprised.

"I'm fine." He says, dully.

I stare at him, looking for the gold rim in his eyes, but his blue irises are only lifeless. So nothing happened to him after all… _Why am I not relieved? I still feel I'm missing something- something happened-_

"We were too late to help you, weren't we Alfred…" I murmur, shaken. For a moment he exposes a flash of discomfort, before helping me stand on my feet, not meeting my gaze.

"It's… not your fault." He mutters back.

"What happened-?" I'm cut off when a hand places itself on my shoulder roughly. I look back and blink at England. He gives me a warning stare.

"It's time for dinner, France. Why don't you join us?" He asks, in a no less than threatening tone. I tense, confused, before gazing at America. He isn't looking at us, as if he's afraid of exposing anything more than what I had seen just before. I hesitate to answer England, but eventually reply.

"O-Oui… alright…"

England grips the top of my arm to pull me back to the dining room. I scowl at his lack of care towards me, considering I've supposedly been in a coma for 3 months, but think better of complaining. I glance back to America, who at least is following us in. The table is now full of nations. The smell of warm, tantalising food drifts through the room pleasantly along with the sound of lively conversation amongst nations. Lithuania is talking with Spain cheerfully, placing food onto his plate. Romania seems happy to simply eat quietly for now, although he gives Hungary looks of hateful teasing now and again. Prussia is strangely anti-social too. The atmosphere is a strange mixture of comfort and underlying angst. There is no doubt it's due to everyone's individual experiences so far in the war. England drags me to a seat beside him, whereas America takes the last available seat on the end of the table, opposite Germany on the other side. I can't take my eyes off of him with anxiety, until England scolds me for staring. In a hushed tone, I hiss, "Something's wrong with America- haven't you noticed?"

"Of course I have."

"But-"

"France, he's been like this since he arrived in Berlin. Spain admitted that he was the same in Madrid. He won't tell anyone what happened. It's useless asking, you idiot-"

I sigh quietly and look down at the table, "I asked if we were too late to help him… and he simply said it wasn't my fault… Arthur, I'm worried about him."

"You're not the only one." He mutters bitterly. I gaze at his angered expression, slowly softening as he lets the conversation trail off. It's strange… we seem to have stopped arguing from earlier, agreeing instead on something more concerning… it seems to remind me of when America and Canada were young. Anytime we would argue over something materialistic- and one of the two brothers would get hurt or upset, we'd stop arguing to concern over them instead.

Suddenly I feel ill again and hold my chest, wincing.

"Are you alright?" England asks, mildly worried.

"I-I'm fine… I'm just a little overwhelmed."

"Idiot- it's your fault-"

"I know."

He sighs at me with frustration. He must not be satisfied that I'm handling this curse more than he expected. That's almost quite amusing…

"Don't laugh. You'll regret your decision one day." England growls. I stop chuckling and smile, un-phased by his threats.

"Perhaps I will. But one day you'll forgive me."

"You can go to hell with that comment. I'll never forgive you."

I snort, "-and I'll never regret my decision."

Our conversation ends there, and we look separate ways.

I enjoy dinner, very much so. Spain's cooking seems to have improved since I last had a meal of his- or am I just appreciating food after a long, tasteless sleep? I have my appetite back at least. I really would begin to regret taking on this curse if I lost the beautiful experience of cuisine. All of my senses are fine, come of think of it…

I wonder why my eye turned gold? I don't seem to have any disability of sight… _England and his ridiculous spells… _He could have got himself killed. Or at least hurt. Deep down I know he is strong-willed, but he's also foolish. Easily swayed.

I keep thinking back to England, which irritates me. He hasn't got to me with such stress in a while. I could always blame him for all this, but I can only accept my fate with this curse and take care of the people I'm keeping alive. It's not a burden, it's a beautiful sacrifice. _Perhaps it is honourable to be in this situation after all. _I seem to be earning more respect this way. I just wish I'd not get so much hate for it from England. He's blind in thinking that I didn't do it for his sake. What made me want o _help _him is beyond me. Perhaps it was on a whim of good nature that made me do what I did.

"Your eye looks cool."

I blink at Italy as he looks at me in fascination, awe in his big, brown eyes.

Germany tells him off, "You shouldn't talk about things like that, Italy-"

"It's alright." I say warmly, smiling at the Italian, "I suppose it is quite cool."

He smiles back, leaning forward to look more closely, "Does it hurt?"

"Ah… well, sometimes. But not too badly."

"It's like Grandpa Rome's- he had gold in his eye with the brown like mine. It's like the sun, isn't it?"

"A sun that gives life…" I murmur, gazing up at the ceiling in thought. Then I hum, "… and if it would go out, life would be lost eventually, without it."

"But that won't happen, will it big brother France?"

I look back down at him, reassuring, "Of course not."

I catch America looking at me and blink, caught off guard; I'm sure he saw my own anxiety towards the subject. A look of understanding makes me relax, but soon the look passes and he takes his eyes away from mine. Italy follows my line of sight.

"America looks sad." He comments, saddened himself, "I don't like to see him upset."

Surprised, I study Italy curiously, "You worry about him too, Italy?"

He nods, a little troubled, "He promised me he would help us all and be the hero, but he doesn't look confident about it. I don't know why. He has all his friends around him, so shouldn't he be happy?"

_Protect us and be the hero… _that sounds more like something America would say… _I can't shake this bad feeling I have around him. _

"What did you dream about?" Italy asks, keen to know. I start, ripped out of my thoughts.

Troubled, I say, "I can't really remember…" _. _

"But you called for America, didn't you?" _I still can't understand why his name stood out in my mind when I woke up-_

"I can't explain it myself, I'm afraid."

"Oh…"

England gazes at me questioningly and I don't meet his eye. I didn't want to mention that a voice said it. I can't recall who it was… I wish I could.

_In a way, it feel like I already know._

Whoever they were, they were calling for America.

But I can't simply brood over this. Perhaps I should just treat it as a dream after all…

…..

"AMERICA-" I lurch awake suddenly, panting. When I stare at a dark, empty room- I realise I had had the dream again. I had heard voices- seen those eyes again. I can't make sense of it.

I wince. My left eye is burning. When I touch it and pull my hand away, I flinch-

Blood.

I'm bleeding- I stumble out of bed and into the quiet corridor. The hall below is dark and still. No lights are on, and for a moment I feel disorientated and lost. Then I remember where the bathroom is and go into the room beside mine further down the corridor. With weak hands I fumble for a light switch.

When the light comes on, there's an awful few seconds of blindness as my eyes adjust to the light. My left eye stings more and I curse quietly, stressed. I face myself in the sink mirror. My eye is indeed bleeding- like a tear down one side of my face. I nervously wash it off with cold water. It's sickening somehow. I've never found the sight of it disturbing before- not for a long time. But now… it makes me frightened. I suddenly hate the colour, the smell, the taste of it. Like I should be remembering something awful about it. But I can't recall anything. All these brief moments of memories I can no longer remember- I can't stand it.

This blood is ugly, despite my encouragement towards the shining gold of my eye- it hurts. The blood I hadn't quite got off has smudged itself under my eye, making me shudder. I run water over it again with my hands. When I look back- there's someone standing behind me.

I spin around and my hand slips on the side of the sink, making me gasp as I lose my balance for a moment. Then I meet a blue, icey stare.

The owner of the gaze asks dully, "Can't sleep either?"

"America… you frightened me." I say, my voice shaking with relief and embarrassment. I try to hide my discomfort of being caught at an inconvenient time and admit, "Non… I can't."

"I heard you call me?"

I hesitate, look away, and mutter, "It was just a nightmare… I don't know why your name was important. I'm sorry if I disturbed you…"

"It's okay." He shrugs. I study him, unsettled by the dark circles under his eyes. Once bright, Atlantic blue eyes… they used to be so strong. One of his most handsome features. I had thought that ever since I laid eyes on him as a little child.

I dry my hands on the towel in reach beside me without meeting his gaze, uneasy as I notice I'm smudging blood on the cream fabric. _I'll have to wash this…_

"… I can't take much more of this."

"Tell me about it." America runs a hand through his honeycomb coloured hair, suddenly seeming more exhausted, "I've got to be up for the morning shift in a few hours."

"When was the last time you slept well, Alfred?"

His eyes trail the tiles of the bathroom wall passively. With a heavily depressed tone, he mutters, "I can't remember."

I hold back on asking what's caused this mood of his. I wouldn't want such questions at this hour, after all.

But he sees through my concerned stare, "I know what you want to ask."

I pause for a moment, then gingerly do as he expected, "What happened to you?"

"I'm not allowed to talk about it."

I frown, "How do you mean?"

He turns and walks into the corridor. Before he disappears towards his room, he says to me, "I don't want him to hear me."

"Who won't? Ameri-?"

He's already gone.

_I wonder what he meant?_

A part of me questions whether I already know. But I don't recall being told anything…

_Alfred._

…_**What are you hiding?**_


End file.
